


We Make it Up as We Go Along

by Panlock



Series: Destiny Undetermined [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Plot, M/M, Obscenely Long, Original Mythology, Slow Burn, mentions of torture, pinning, political elements, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 61,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8593642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panlock/pseuds/Panlock
Summary: Canon AU Where Balinor is Dragonlord of Sidera, a kingdom north of Camelot. After Ygraine dies during labor Uther attempts to wipe magic out of Albion, succeeding everywhere except in Sidera. He later hears about a powerful wizard who’s destiny is to end the war on magic. His name is Emrys.Now that Merlin is of age he travels to Camelot in disguise and forms a friendship with Arthur. Merlin struggles to uphold his beliefs and duties as Emrys and Prince of Sidera while also holding loyalty to Arthur and Camelot. Things only get more complicated from there.





	1. Authors Note

A/N:

For the most part the major events still happen. The major differences include Balinor, and thus Merlin, being royalty and some of the characters appear in different times than in canon. I heavily referenced [MerlinWiki](http://merlin.wikia.com/wiki/Merlin_Wiki), specifically series one and series two episode guides. Because each season has 13 episodes, and there is generally two episodes that are a “part two special” I just came to my own conclusion that each episode happens about a month apart. This would mean each season makes up about a year. I don’t know if this is true, because the writers are lazy, and I have no idea what sort of time line the show was working with, but in my fanfiction, each episode occurs in a different month, making up one year.

 **Major warnings:** Not beta read, so very long, heavy plot, uneven chapter length, varying ratings by chapter, slow burn, eventual Arthur/Merlin paring but mentions of various m/f relationships.

Some things I made up…

 **Sidera** : Sidera is Balinor’s kingdom. I referenced a map made by [versaphile](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1037453/chapters/2069264) (isn’t that cool? everyone go give this person kudos) and placed Sidera in the region of Rheged. I chose to place Sidera here for a few reasons. Number one, Rheged isn’t mentioned like, at all in the television show so it doesn’t really conflict with canon. Secondly, I wanted Sidera to be mountainous and it appears, from this map, that Rheged has mountains in the south. Lastly, Sidera had to be a good distance from Camelot. I make mention of other kingdoms on this map so it might be helpful to reference it as you read.

 **Siderian riders** : Riders are the equivalent of knights in Sidera. Both magical and non-magical persons can be riders, as well as women. Riders follow a similar code as knights. The main difference between Camelot’s Knights and Siderian Riders are the knights are generally better swordsmen and the riders are known for being fast horseback riders. Additionally there are no status requirements to become a rider. They are called Riders because they are bonded through magic with the horse they ride, even if the rider doesn’t possess magic.

 **Dragons Keep and High Tower:** Dragons Keep is the fortress capitol built into the side of a massive mountain located in the southwest region of Sidera. The entire mountain side has been carved with magic into a fortress, Dragons Keep. The very top of Dragons Keep is High Tower. High Tower is where Balinor and the royal family live and it’s situated above the clouds. Some commoners live or work in Dragons Keep; it’s similar to the Citadel in Camelot. Dragons live in the unaltered half of the mountain behind Dragons Keep and there are caves that connect the two. Dragons come and go as they please though a few dragons leave less often than other more solitary dragons such as Kilgharrah. I googled some images of castles built into mountains and the closet thing I could find to what I had in mind was this:[ Dragons Keep](http://static.zerochan.net/Pixiv.Fantasia%3A.New.World.full.1559771.jpg). Also, in this universe, the crystal caves are located in this same mountain in Sidera. I don't think it makes much sense for the birthplace of magic to be "hidden" within Camelot. In this universe, the Dragonlord's built their fortress in this mountain because of the location of the caves to keep it safe.

 **Dragons** : The relationship the dragons have with the Dragonlord’s in this story varies depending on the dragon. Dragons are not owned by the Dragonlord’s and most of them do their own thing, only showing up when called or when something special happens. The first dragon a Dragonlord hatches, however, will be connected to the Queen and the first born son and sticks around until both pass away. Duracca is the first dragon that Balinor’s father hatched and is like a brother to Balinor. Archimedes is the first dragon Balinor hatched and is protective of Hunith and very close to Merlin. He is also obviously my spin on Archimedes the owl from The Sword and the Stone (1963) who was Merlin’s companion.

 **Battle of High Claw** : In the earliest ages of Albion there were twelve Dragonlord families and eventually they all went to war with one another. This war is referred to as the Battle of High Claw because the dragons took sides and fought one another. Balinor’s line won the battle and now his line is the last Dragonlord clan.

 **Dragonlord betrothal necklaces:** Necklaces made out of the enchanted shell of dragon eggs. They resemble opals and come in different colors, generally the same color as the dragon that hatched from the egg. They take the place of both engagement/wedding rings and crowns for the brides of Dragonlord’s. The necklaces are wide and flat and act like armor. They are indestructible and resistant to magical attacks. It is through wearing the eggshell necklace during pregnancy that creates the bond that the dragons have with the first born son. As long as a Queen wears the betrothal necklace the dragons respect her similarly to the Dragonlord, though they are not commanded by her. I imagined the shape/design of the necklaces’ to look a bit like [this](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pf4yTu_hbv8/VArI7nZJxAI/AAAAAAAAawQ/wIPFj58tvKM/s1600/diamond%2Bnecklace5.png) because they’re essentially armor. I also imagined Hunith’s necklace to look like[orange opal](https://static.auctionmate.io/oa/uploads/images/220000-224999/221781/52b7905c4476d.jpg) and Mapri’s necklace would look like [black opal](http://www.gemselect.com/photos/black-opal/black-opal-gem-330206a.jpg) in color.

 **Eananah Crystal:** This is my take on the Eananah creature, which can take away a persons magic that we saw at the [end of the series](http://merlin.wikia.com/wiki/The_Diamond_of_the_Day). I made it a crystal rather than a creepy bug and it plays a big role in the mythology. The crystal was given to the High Priestess by the Triple Goddess to use in case dark magic took over. This crystal can take all magic back to Avalon, making it very desirable to Uther.


	2. The Crystal Caves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin travels into the Crystal Caves looking for answers about his destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter One: THE CRYSTAL CAVES

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Just more of my mythology building.

Words: 2,290

XiiX

SIX YEARS LATER

_Sidera_

          Merlin continued to grow. His body seemed to resist putting on firm muscles; instead he grew tall and lean. Soon he was just as tall as Balinor but never near as thick or broad. His magic, however, expanded to unimaginable limits. By the time he was sixteen he had exhausted the knowledge of the Druid elders. By the time he was eighteen he had surpassed them. However, lately, Merlin’s skin was crawling with the urge to _do something._ His magic was constantly bumbling, eager, excited, but without direction. No one seemed to be able to give him answers about what he is supposed to do…which is what brought him to the oldest member of his father’s counsel—Kilgharrah.

            The Great Dragon was a bitter and old beast, but he mostly tolerated Merlin and he always respected Balinor. The Dragonlord warned Kilgharrah several times not to put any thoughts in his son’s head, but somehow Merlin kept traveling into the caves where Kilgharrah liked to dwell when he was stationary.

             “Kilgharrah is such a bad influence,” the smaller dragon grumbled. Archimedes and Kilgharrah, did not get along. The younger dragon did not trust the older, generally concerned that he had selfish motives.

            “Shush, you great featherless turkey,” Merlin hissed as Archimedes tried to talk him out of sneaking into the caves. Again.

            The orange dragon warned, “When you father finds out—”

            “He’s not going to find out, shush.” Merlin repeated. “I think Kilgharrah said the crystal caves were supposed to be around here somewhere…” The young warlock walked through the inky darkness of the caves, the only light glowing from the three orbs that swirled around him.

            The last time the prince visited Kilgharrah the dragon begrudgingly told Merlin that Balinor had commanded he not tell the young prince any more riddles about his destiny. Apparently Balinor shared Archimedes concerns that the older dragon would try to serve his own goals. It was the opinion of Kilgharrah and many of the other dragons that they should devour Camelot and set Uther to flames. The dragon lord didn’t want the influential dragon putting anything into Merlin’s impressionable head.

            _“You can’t tell me anything?”_ Merlin had whined.

            _“I must obey the call of a dragon lord,”_ Kilgharrah sighed. _“However, you might learn something if you travel into the crystal caves and scry using one of the orbs.”_ The dragon tapped his claws against a large bolder, looking like the cat who ate the canary. _“But you didn’t hear it from me.”_ With that the larger dragon flew upward and left through an open crevice.

            Archimedes wasn’t having any of it, though. “This is a bad idea. You don’t know what you’re doing, and this area is forbidden! Only Master Kindal and his apprentices are allowed to peer into the crystals.” In fact, Merlin had to disarm four Siderian Riders posted at the beginning of the network, weave through several traps, and avoid the watchful glare of two sentinel dragons. This was a sacred place, and few people traveled here. It was the reason the Dragonlords built their fortress in this mountain, to safe guard the birthplace of magic.

            “Hey,” the prince protested, “I _am_ one of his apprentices.” He marched forward, clearly done arguing with his winged brother. “This has to be it!” Merlin announced excitedly after seeing an eerie blue glow flood out from around a nearby bend in the cave.

            As the pair rounded to corned Merlin gasped slack jaw and all. The room, buried deep within the bowels of the cave, looked like something out of this world. Hundreds of crystals, sparking brighter than any earthly jewels, jutted out of the walls and ceiling and floors. It was like standing in the center of a kaleidoscope, breathtaking and disorientating. Even Archimedes, who always had a comment, was left speechless.

            The room was warm, too, not drafty like the rest of the cave system. Merlin could feel a presence here, like the room was breathing and alive itself. It was magic that he felt, tethered here in its most natural state. “Art,” he murmured, “are you feeling this?”

            The dragon only purred, though, and walked ahead. There was something about this space that made him feel like roaring, breathing fire, and opening his wings. He looked back at Merlin, but the warlock was just as mesmerized by the space.

            “It feels…I feel like I’m…” He was at a loss of words as he wondered around the cave, looking into the various crystals. They varied is size and shape. Some were no larger than his palm, while others were as massive as Kilgharrah’s head. “Look,” Merlin said, totally awed, as he stumbled up to an archway that lead into another, smaller chamber. The archway was engraved with old and unrecognizable runes. It was foreboding. 

             Within this smaller chamber there were no crystals and the air was icy again. The ground was black and gritty. It was so dark Merlin almost couldn’t see the crater in the center of the room. It looked as if a crystal had been ripped from the floor and was missing, leaving behind a charred hole.

            The prince walked over, crouching down carefully next to the barren pit in the ground and tentatively placed his hand above the spot. It was cold and bleak, like a grave.

“Emrys, don’t!” Art cried and flew to the threshold of the smaller chamber, but he stopped at the archway. He would not enter.

             Ignoring is better instincts and Archimedes warnings, Merlin pressed his fingers into the hard earth and the sensation made Merlin cry out, ripping his hand away at once. The warlock cradled his hand near his chest, breath billowing out unsteadily. “I touched it and…” he gulped, “I couldn’t feel my magic, or you, or anything. It was like…I don’t know, being numb all over.”

            The dragon glared at the ominous black pit in the center of the room. It made him uneasy. “I think this is the cradle of the Eananah Crystal.”

Merlin perks up, confused. “What the hell is that?” 

“I’ll tell you later, are you OK now?”

            Merlin flexed his fingers, “I think so.” He silently called for one of the orbs using his magic, relieved when it flew to him immediately. The orb hovered over the hole in the ground. The spot was shallow, as if the missing crystal was only a little smaller than a helmet, but the earth there wasn’t soft like dirt. It felt like hardened lava, though there was no molten core in this cave system.

            “Maybe we should just go,” Art cautioned. “Besides, those guards will be waking soon.”

            But Merlin only rolled his eyes, not at all worried about dealing with a few castle guards. He could best them with both hands behind his back. “We haven’t even accomplished what we came here for,” he complained and got up off the ground. He dusted his pant legs as he went, moving toward the main room where they originally entered. There he stood, in the center of the largest collection of seeing crystals in the world, and closed his eyes. One of these crystals, he knew, would call out to him. He just needed to listen.

            Meanwhile Art sat back, annoyed, and inspected one of his claws. He would make sure Merlin understood he was not a part of this, even if he was a loyal accomplice. The dragon looked up after a few seconds to watch the warlock. Merlin kept his eyes closed, still as the unearthly stones that surrounded him, arms out stretched and palms up. Then, without warning, Merlin began to walk forward, moving toward a nearby cluster, and placed his hands on a loose crystal, heaving it up to his face.

            The prince huffed and breath of victory, smiling into the now fogged up crystal, and poured all his concentration into the jagged orb. _Show me my destiny._

The blue orbs flickered once, twice, and Archimedes stirred. He didn’t feel right, he wanted to stop this, but before he could warn the other the blue orbs swirled into nothingness and only the dim white light of the crystals illuminated this space. Seconds later, Merlin fell to the ground.

XiiX

            Merlin woke hours later, after the sun had dipped below the horizon, and feeling more hungry than he ever remembered being before. “Oh,” he groaned and ground the palm of his hand into his eye to fight the pressure building there. “Bloody hell.”

            “Mom!” A squeal shattered the silence in the room and Merlin jolted, not realizing he had company. “Mom, Merlin is awake and he said a bad word!” A little girl stood up from the floor looking indignant.

            “Mim!” Merlin growled at his younger sister. “What are you doing in my room?” He looked to the left and saw Archimedes standing over his bed with a relieved expression. “Geez, who died?”

            “Merlin,” Hunith admonished as she walked into his bedchamber from the common room across from it. “Be nice to your sisters.” Beside her stood his other sibling, Mim’s twin sister, Map. The twins were now nine years old and generally a pain in Merlin’s neck. They were very precocious, like many magical children are, and mischievous. Map, who was named after their grandmother, was quiet but very observant whereas Mim was outspoken and impulsive.

            “Yea,” Mim cried and tucked her silver-grey hair behind her ear, only a single strip of black hung over her right eye. Map’s hair was the opposite of her twin sisters, entirely black with a strip of silver-grey over her left eye. The twins were completely identical except the differences in hair. “We’re only here because everyone was worried about you!” The girl explained, as if she had better things to do.

            “Yes,” his mother agreed softly with concern in her eyes. “You had us _quite_ worried. I’m glad you’re feeling better now.”

            Merlin was about to ask why anyone would be worried about him, and how he got to his bed, and how long he had been out, when his stomach growled obscenely and his sisters laughed.

            “It sounds like your brother is hungry,” Hunith smiled. “Let’s go get him some food, hm?” She took one hand from each of her girls and moved back toward the common room where the door to the hall was located. “Archimedes could you tell Balinor Merlin has woke up?”

            “I’ve already informed him, Queen Hunith.” The dragon said politely, but kept his eyes on Merlin.

            “Thank you,” Hunith said as she walked out with her daughters, leaving Archimedes and Merlin alone.

            “What happened?” Merlin asked and patted an open space on his bed for the dragon to join him. “You don’t have to be on the floor, idiot.”

            “Your father commanded me to protect you,” he explained as he leapt up on the bedding. Merlin just raised his eyebrows, though, and Archimedes elaborated. “Don’t you remember anything?” The dragon sounded annoyed. “We were in the crystal caves and you decided to stick your nose where it ought not be!” He shouted dramatically. “You picked up a crystal and passed out…I brought you to your father and grandmother as soon as I could.”

            Merlin paled when he remembered. Sneaking out, incapacitating the guards, and then sensing a coldness cascade up and down his bones. “Ow, oh.” He pinched his nose and fell against the bedding. “I’m remembering it, the visions.”

            “Good,” his father said sternly and entered his room with a chair and a heaping plate of food. “Here,” he handed over the plate and sat the chair next to Merlin’s bed.

            The Prince groaned in delight at the sight and smell of food. “Dad to the rescue.” Merlin tucked into a whole roast chicken.

            “Archimedes could you give me a moment with my son?” Balinor spoke firmly, without looking at the dragon.

            Archimedes ducked his head and obeyed wordlessly. He let himself out through a window near Merlin’s bed, most likely to join the other dragons in the mount.

            Balinor settled in his seat and let Merlin eat for a few minutes, heading his mother’s words about the fatigue that peering into a crystal could cause. Merlin didn’t look as drained as he had expected, though. “How are you feeling?”

            The Prince swallowed a mouthful of roasted potatoes and washed it down with water. “Like I fell off of Arts back flying two hundred feet up, and then didn’t eat for a week, but fine other than that. I’ve never scryed like that before.”

            “What do you remember?”

            Merlin frowned and put down his fork. “It…doesn’t really make sense. Maybe I should ask Master Kindal to help me sort it out.”

            Balinor wouldn’t have it. “Merlin, this is important. What did you see?”

            The younger warlock sighed and sat up in his bed. “They were like memories, or they felt like memories…but I know it hasn’t happened yet.” He leaned forward and gripped his hair. “I was with a blond bloke in most of them, outside of Sidera. I…I kept saving his life.” Merlin spoke slowly and paused often, as if he had to force the information to surface. “It’s really vague, I can’t remember details, but I think he was my friend.” He frowned. “No, I’m certain. He’s my friend and he needs me to protect him. I used my magic to protect him and—” Merlin paused abruptly and his eyes widened.

            “What? What is it? This could be the key to your destiny.” Balinor was now leaning forward and resting a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder, trying to encourage him to continue.

            “He…the man I’m protecting, he’s wearing the Pendragon banner. He’s a knight of Camelot.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


	3. Making Sense of This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balinor’s council helps Merlin make sense of his vision and plan for their next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Two: MAKING SENSE OF THIS

Rating: General Audience

Warnings: Mythology building

Words: 2389

XiiX

_Sidera_

            “You’re positive?” Mapri asked with a tight face.

            The Prince was still in his bed, despite his many attempts to stand up. Everyone insisted he needed to rest even after he cleared the impressive spread of food and drank several pitchers of water. “Yes!” He confirmed for what felt like the millionth time. They had been at this for hours now, going over his vision again and again. “In fact, I’m positive I’m positive! It’s my destiny to end the war on magic through this bloke.” He pointed to his own head, as if everyone else could see the mystery knight in his visions. “I don’t know his name but I know what he looks like and I know he’s a knight in Camelot. I’ve got to go to him.” If nothing else made sense before this moment, Merlin didn’t have doubts now. This must be destiny.

            “No!” Everyone in the room shouted.

            “Are you crazy?” Mapri hissed. “We didn’t protect you for nearly twenty years just to send you to Camelot with a ribbon!”

            Merlin wouldn’t hear her protests, though. Once he got some food in his stomach his magic began to burn with the desire to go to Camelot, to seek out this person. “You haven’t protected me!” He snarled and threw the blankets off his legs. Merlin had enough of sitting, and waiting. “You hid me! You made me hide everything about myself for _nearly twenty years!”_

            He got up and marched out of his bedchambers and into the common area that also belonged to him. He knew the others would follow into the sitting room, anyways.

            He needed to get away from the smaller room and walk around. His magic was fuming with the desire to _move._ He stalked over to the slender window and looked out. High Tower was far above the clouds and he couldn’t see the many scattered shelters below, but he knew they were there. When the clouds moved just so he could make out the faint lights from fires that kept huddles of people warm. Thousands of people mostly displaced and scared, orphans, widows, separated from their loved ones, and all waiting on Emrys.

            He looked away from the window too looked at his father who had followed him out. “You feel the responsibility, the burden, for all those people?”

            “I do.” Balinor answered and Hunith came up beside him and took her husband’s hand.

            “So do I. Since I was thirteen and you told me I would have to end it. Do you know it’s like to know that there are hundreds of sorcerers every day locked up, waiting to be executed, and they’re all saying my name? Like it’s a prayer, like I’m a savior. Their last words, my name! Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

            None of his family said anything. He knew he wasn’t being fair by asking them to relate but he was through being coddled. He felt like a prized and polished sword that sparkled, that was sharp and deadly and had potential, but had never been to battle. Never tried or tested.

            “I understand why you did what you did…I needed protecting when I was a child but I’m not a child anymore. I’m more powerful than anyone else in Sidera and now I know what I need to do. It’s time I do it.”

            “I don’t want you to go to Camelot.” Mapri said sternly and raised her chin in defiance.

            “It will be dangerous.” Hunith added, expressing the worry that his grandmother was feeling but couldn’t articulate through her steely demeanor. 

            Merlin smiled cheekily and faced his mother. He looked very sure of himself, straight back and a confident glint in his eyes. Her son always surprised Hunith. He had learned how to wear his meek and simple alter ego flawlessly whenever some outsider was watching while underneath there was always self-assured power. As soon as he stepped away from an outsider and was alone with the Druids, or surrounded by dragons, Merlin dropped the façade and became someone else entirely. He became a leader. He was that man right now. 

           “We all knew this day would come.” He said firmly, without an ounce of fear. “Whether it was on the battle field in war, or secretively working within Camelot, it was never going to be easy or safe.”

            Hunith and Balinor looked at one another then, still holding hands. The Queen smiled tightly, it was nearly a frown, and the Dragonlord nodded. Balinor sucked in a great breath and faced his son again. “You will take Archimedes.”

            “What?” Mapri blanched. “You can’t be serious!?” The Queen Regent glared up at her oldest son.

            Hunith didn’t say anything but silent tears began to steam down her face. She told herself that she knew this day would come. They would eventually have to let Merlin go and meet his destiny. It felt like she was losing her son.

            “Enough!” Balinor turned his head and snapped sternly at his mother. Mapri recoiled at her sons raised voice. It was unlike him to shout, especially at her. “Merlin isn’t a boy anymore and he doesn’t need us to protect him.” He looked back to his eldest. The Prince was smiling easily with a hand on his hip. “He hasn’t needed us to protect him for a while now, I suspect.”

            Mapri tucked one of her hands under her chin and looked older than Merlin had ever seen before. His mother remained silent and strong, only the fat tears rolling down her face betrayed her, demonstrating her anguish. Balinor continued to look like stone but Merlin knew that his father was both proud and afraid.

            “Then you’ll let me go?” Merlin was expecting more of a fight.

            Balinor nodded tightly. “I can’t very well stop you from meeting your destiny, as long as you’re sure this is what you have to do.”

            “Yea,” Merlin breathed and relaxed his shoulders. “I’m sure of it…whoever this knight is, he’s a part of it somehow. I just need to figure it out.”

            The Dragonlord put both hands on his hips and looked down at the floor. “Then you should go as soon as you can. We’ll hold a small council meeting tomorrow; you can leave right after.”

XiiX

             “This is your purpose.” Master Kindal said solemnly the next day. He agreed with Merlin’s interpretation of the visions from the scrying, though reckless as it was. The other Druid leader’s remained silent but watchful.

            The High Priestess was not nearly so calm. “You choose to assist a knight of Camelot?” She snarled. “They consider the slaughter of our people a rite of passage, are you aware? They christen their blades on our blood.” She spat hatefully.

            As a child Merlin liked her. He remembered thinking she was gorgeous and kind. When she visited Nimueh always brought him gifts and eagerly anticipated seeing his latest advancements in magic. The longer the Great Purge raged the more extreme Nimueh became, however. She would talk about poisoning the soil or cursing the women to become infertile in Camelot. As Merlin grew he noticed the change in the Priestess but he continued to respect her as his superior. He felt sad for her, to watch such a beautiful witch wither and become jaded; he vowed to never allow his heart be tainted like that.

           Now, as Nimueh’s equal, Merlin realized that the Great Purge had done more than harden her—she was using dark magic. He could smell it like death every time she was near and it made him want to recoil from her smile. Some of the other members of the council could sense the dark magic tainting her soul, but no one said anything. Merlin had stayed quiet, carefully watching and feigning fidelity to Nimueh’s more reckless ways, but now it was time to set a new path.

          “Don’t talk to me like I’m some green horned warlock,” he snapped with a sour frown, not carrying at all if he looked the least bit childish. “I’m very aware of how the knights of Camelot enjoy cutting us down, but I can’t ignore what I’ve seen, either. This is what I must do and I would appreciate your support.” 

            “You mean you want us to stop killing red cloak-wearing knights?” Morgause slit her eyes dangerously. While Vivienne had shriveled up after coming to Sidera, Morgause had blossomed into a vibrant killer. She never let go of her hatred for Uther Pendragon. She had more reason than most to loath the man. He had ruined her family, killed her father, separated her from her sister, and waged war on her people. Everything Morgause did brought her closer to Uther’s demise. She practiced under Finn for years, learning the old ways and honing her magic. When she came of age she joined Sidera’s Riders and developed into an accomplished fighter. She led many campaigns along the Siderian boarder and had killed her fair share of magic-haters. By the time she saw her twenty third name day she was a skilled sorceress and equally deadly with a sword. Now she was Nimueh’s apprentice, and a training to become a High Priestess of the Old Religion.

            The Prince sighed heavily. “Yes, I do. Just let me deal with Camelot.” Though Camelot was the center of hate for magic-users, their influence had spread. There was work to be done far and wide in Albion to save their kind and their way of life.

            Morgause laughed morbidly. “And wait for you to find this mystery knight and do what?” The woman looked ferocious in the council chamber still wearing armor and a sword at her hip. “Do you even know?”     

            Merlin did not have an answer. He _didn’t_ know what he needed to do once he found this knight, other than protect him. To what end, he did not know.

            “You don’t, do you?” She continued with her unsettling even voice that still managed to be wrathful. “Do you expect us to wait forever; until you finally figure it out while people are dying?”

            “He will know once he goes to Camelot.” Balinor defended his son, giving Morgause a hard glare.

            “Did any of you stop to think that we’re tired of waiting?” Nimueh shrieked. “While you have been hiding in High Tower the rest of us have been fighting Uther where we can. We made plans without you, and I do not intend to redact those plans now.” As a High Priestess of the Old Religion Nimueh had certain privileges that Morgause did not, including talking back to the Dragonlord and his Prince.

           “No,” Merlin said and shook his head, looking down. “No, I don’t think you’re tired of waiting. I think you are disappointed that this won’t end in blood. You were looking forward to war and now I’m telling you that is not the way. You are nothing more than blood thirsty.” He set his jaw and stared the two witches down. 

          Nimueh lifted her chin defiantly and returned in a low voice, “Once you’ve actually put your boots on the ground, young Emrys, maybe you’ll want some blood, too.” She glanced over to Balinor and the others without moving her head. “I will not represent Sidera in my plans, but neither will I stand idle.”

         The Dragonlord looked irritated. Technically, he could not forbid Nimueh from doing as she wished. She was not one of his subjects. He squeezed his fist at his side and ground his teeth, making his displeasure very obvious. “Very well, but know this: I do not wish to make enemies out of us but if you should directly go after my son I will make you a dead enemy. Your skies will be darkened by the wings of every dragon in Albion and you will die by fire. Do you understand?” Balinor had never threatened the use of the dragons before; they were his brethren not his attack dogs.

         The Priestess was tight-lipped for a moment before she answered, “understood.”

XiiX

         The remaining plans were made rather quickly. Merlin was told that he should seek out the physician Gaius. Balinor himself had met him, and swore that he was a good man. He would help Merlin.

         The Prince would dress simply and bring nothing from Sidera, except a well hidden Archimedes. His clothes were the ratty threads of a refugee from Ealdor, which would also be his place of origin if anyone asked. Hunith had told him enough about the region over the years and Merlin was sure he could make anyone believe he was from Ealdor.

         He would not be missed in Sidera because no one outside of a few Druids and Merlin’s family had ever seen the Prince. He had never attended a formal event, no balls or celebrations, no tournaments or done any public speaking. There were even some, within Sidera and outside, who thought that the Prince had died a long time ago and the royal family was keeping it a secret while they tried for another son. As an added precaution the Druids supported the rumor that the Prince had fallen ill again and could not have his usual visitors. It was nothing Rhodor and the other cousins hadn’t heard before. Merlin had disappeared for months when he first began to train with Master Antle.

         He did not use an elaborate disguise, unlike during his many trips into the market place. It wasn’t necessary. No one knew what he looked like, and he used his preferred name and not his legal name, Ambrosius Myrddin.

        Unfortunately, there was no clever way to hide Archimedes. The dragon would have to remain small, usually small enough to fit in Merlin’s pocket, back pack, or even under his neckerchief if they got desperate. 

       Merlin hugged his mother and his sisters tightly. He made the twins promise not to get into too much trouble while he was away, and to continue mastering their magic. Mapri was like stone when she kissed her cheek, but he knew she was only afraid and not angry. Balinor was nearly as quiet as his mother.

       “You don’t have to act like you’ll never see me again,” Merlin said cheerfully even if he was secretly scared out of his wits.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!


	4. Camelot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin travels to Camelot, meets Arthur, and realizes keeping the knight safe will be easier said than done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Three: CAMELOT

Rating: Teen for mild language

Warnings: Cannon Divergence episode 1:1 _The Dragons Call_

Words: 2,027

XiiX

_Camelot_

      “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Merlin cursed under his breath when he watched the knight he had seen in his vision act like a complete and utter prat. At first he had been mesmerized at the sight. He could hardly believe it. He had just strolled into Camelot, searching for Gaius, and he walked up on the blond knight just like that. He seemed bigger in person, all broad shoulders and generous muscles. Merlin also noticed the knight had a charming smile full of crooked white teeth. But his good looks were bleak compared to his totally atrocious behavior. He was tormenting a servant with _throwing knives._ He had never seen even the raunchiest riders in Sidera behave half as rude as this fellow.

_“This is the knight…”_ Archimedes asked from his hiding place within Merlin’s backpack while looking through a hole in the fabric.

_“Yea,”_ the warlock deadpanned as he watched the knight relentlessly torture a devastated servant by shouting “Moving target practice!” He wanted to deny it, to step back and tell his magic that it had mucked up _something_ because this blond haired jerk could never be worthy of his protection—but his magic was already vibrating. He couldn’t deny it; this prat was his past, present, and future. “Bollocks.”

      Feeling responsible for the knight’s poor behavior and more than a little bad for the unfortunate servant scrambling at his feet, Merlin stepped in. “Hey, come on, that’s enough.”

      The blond knight cocked his head and looked equal parts annoyed and amused. Apparently he wasn’t used to being told to cease his bad behavior. Great, Merlin thought, he’s spoiled too.  “What?” The blond asked, sounded totally dumbstruck by the other man’s boldness.

      “You’ve had your fun, my friend.” Merlin explained, trying to sooth the ill-tempered man now approaching him. After all, he should make their first meeting a good one if he was going to be protecting the idiot for an unforeseeable amount of time.

      But the knight continued to simmer with aggressive arrogance as he stepped up. “Do I know you?” He asked, wearing a glare that would be intimidating if Merlin had been anyone else. This knight really had no idea who he was talking to. 

     “Uh, no.” Merlin said politely and embraced the chance to introduce himself to the knight he had seen in his waking dream. “I’m Merlin.” He held out his hand.

      “So I don’t know you.” The knight ignored his hand and everything else Merlin had just said. The warlock felt his heart sink. This was not going well.

      “No,” the warlock bit the inside of his cheek and tried to think of a way to fix this before it spun out of control.

      “And yet you call me friend.” He said it slowly, as if he were talking to a daft child. It reminded him of Freya.

       Merlin was suddenly done searching for control. “Yea, my mistake.” And Merlin meant it. There had to be a mistake. His destiny couldn’t mean for him to be paired with this nasty little git.

        “Yea, I think so.” The blond knight said with a tight, false smile.

        “I could never have a friend that was such an ass.” It felt good to watch the smug expression wash off of the knight’s face. He wasn’t used to having it thrown back at him, then.

        “And I could never have one that was so stupid!” The blond called as Merlin walked away. Both of them were just puffing up their chests now, challenging the other and Merlin was in no state to deescalate the situation.

_“What are you doing?”_ Archimedes cried from within Merlin’s backpack. _“We’ve not been in Camelot for a day yet and you’re already making a scene.”_ The dragon was chattering away in Merlin’s head just as Arthur was encouraging him to take his best shot.

         And, oh, did he want to take his best shot. Well, maybe not his _best._ He didn’t want to kill the bloke. Maybe just seriously injure or maim…at the very least publicly humiliate him. But Merlin knew he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t blow his cover before he even knew what it was he needed to do.

         So he threw a weak punch and the knight gathered him up and twisted his arm, hissing some nonsense about going to jail.

         “Who do you think you are, the King?” Merlin clenched his teeth as his arm was being pulled.

          “No, I’m his son. Prince Arthur.”

_"You’ve got to be kidding me.”_ Archimedes groaned.

XiiX

            After using some magic to call Gaius to the rescue Merlin was released and brought back to the physicians rooms.

            “You better give me a good reason why I shouldn’t turn you into the King right now.” Gaius threatened as soon as they were behind closed doors.

            “Geez Art, what did you tell him?” Merlin asked and scratched the back of his head. The dragon had been the one to speak to the physician through the castle, asking him to make up a story and free the young _innocent_ sorcerer in the dungeons.

            The old man slit his eyes skeptically. “Who is Art?!”

            The miniaturized dragon clawed its way to the top of Merlin’s back pack and stuck his head out of the flap. “Hello, nice to meet you.” He said calmly and blinked owlishly up at the physician.

            Gaius looked as if he were ready to shout when Merlin threw up his hands pleadingly. “Shh! I’m sorry; I don’t mean to startle you. This is Archimedes; I call him Art for short.” He gestured toward the dragon who had wiggled up and perched himself on Merlin’s shoulder. “We’re not here to cause any problems, I promise.” The Siderian Prince smiled sheepishly. “I’ve come here because I’ve had a vision that showed me protecting Prince Arthur. I think it’s connected to my destiny somehow and…my father told me I could trust you to help me.”

            Gaius fell back into a chair, looking like someone had told him his entire life has been a lie, but didn’t say anything.

            “Can I trust you?” Merlin asked quietly. There was goodness in this man, he could sense it. His magic was soothed around him the same way it was calm when he was with his mother.

            The physician did not look entirely convinced though. “Who is your father?” Gaius assumed it would be one of the many men he had helped escape Camelot during the Great Purge. He had ushered dozens out, but he remembered each name.

            “Dragonlord Balinor. I’m Prince Ambrosius Myrddin of Sidera, but my friends and family call me Merlin.” He studied the old man’s face closely, looking for any signs of hesitation or fear. If Gaius could not be trusted Merlin didn’t know what he was going to do.

            The physician just looked confused, though. “If you’re the Siderian Prince, why aren’t you…”He trailed off while staring at the healthy looking young man in front of him.

            “So ill I can’t stand?” Merlin smiled. He found it reassuring that Gaius was concerned about his physical state. “Those are all rumors, I’m afraid. I’ve always been healthy. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been sick once my entire life.”

            Gaius looked less aghast, as if he had gathered his wits, and stood up to fetch some water. He poured two cups and Merlin added that to his _good sign_ tab. “You say you are the Siderian Prince, and yet you are healthy and a sorcerer. If this is true why would your parents let all of Albion believe that you are feeble and without magic? It seems dangerous to let the world think the Siderian heir is weak, especially in a time when Sidera has so many enemies.”  

            Merlin sighed and accepted the water. He had never told anyone that he was Emrys. Everyone that knew had known before he did. “Because it’s my destiny to one day bring peace and magic back to Albion…I, I’m Emrys.”

            Gaius was gripping his crudely made ceramic cup so tight it might break in his palm. He had hoped that the legends were true, and that he would live long enough to see the era of peace that Emrys would usher forth. “You’re—” He sputtered

            Merlin looked dead serous all a sudden. “What I am is in need of your help.”

            “What can I do?” The physician asked. In his mind he owed Balinor his life. He was certain that one day word would return to Camelot that Gaius was the one helping so many citizens flee. When that day never came he was convinced it was because Balinor had protected his name in Sidera. He could repay this debt by helping Balinor’s son.

            But as a man who both practiced magic and believed in the sanctity of life, he had an obligation to help Emrys bring peace to Albion.

            “Help me get a job in the castle. I’m not sure how but I’m certain that my destiny starts with Prince Arthur and I need to be close to him. I think I’m meant to protect him.” Merlin explained, and tried not to think too much about their terrible first meeting. “Oh,” he smiled cheerfully and motioned to his shoulder. “And a place to sleep would be nice too, some place private if you know of anywhere. I can’t have anyone seeing Art.”

            “Yes, that would probably blow our cover.” Archimedes added and straightened up on Merlin’s shoulder.

            “You can take the room in the back,” Gaius answered with a nod to a door in the rear. “And you can pose as my apprentice until we find you something more suitable; that was the story I made up to get you out of the dungeons anyway.” The physician sounded distracted, though, and as he spoke he squinted at Archimedes. “I’m sorry but,” he took a step closer. “I’ve just never seen such a small dragon. In fact, the only other dragon I’ve ever seen was the one your father rode when he came to—” he stopped abruptly.

            The warlock laughed good naturedly. “When he rescued Lady Vivienne and Morgause? I know all about it.” Merlin watched the physician relax and realized what a burden it must have been to help them escape. He wondered if he had ever been able to talk to anyone about it.

            “This isn’t my true size,” Archimedes chimed in proudly. “Merlin has gifted me with the ability to change my size at will.” At that he expanded slightly from the size of a mouse to the size of an owl. It was his preferred size when he had to shrink down. He was just small enough to still be carried around by Merlin, but not so small that anyone could overlook him.

            “Fascinating.” Gaius murmured. The more he talked with this strange newcomer, the more he believed him. Who else, other than the Prince of Sidera and Emrys, would have a dragon as a traveling companion, know about Morgause and Vivienne, _and_ be powerful enough to cast working magic on a dragon. Though, that was not all, there was something about this young man that made Gaius trust him. The physician liked to believe he was a good judge of character; after all, he didn’t managed to stay alive all these years on just good luck. “You must be very powerful.”

            “Thanks,” both Merlin and Archimedes said at the same time. “Well,” Merlin added a second later. “What is the first order of business for the physician’s assistant?”

            “You may start by delivering these potions around the castle and accompany me to the ball tonight. King Uther is hosting a celebration and I’m expected to attend. It will be a good excuse to introduce you to some of the castle staff and you might even get to meet Prince Arthur.”

            Merlin decided not to mention that he had already met the Prince and instead asked about the celebration.

            “Ironically enough, Uther is celebrating Camelot’s twentieth year without magic. He’s very proud, even asking Lady Helen to sing for the court.”

            “Sounds like fun,” he groused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


	5. Deal with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin finds a rhythm in Camelot but realizes there are forces working against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Four: DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

Rating: General Audience

Warnings: Cannon divergence episode 1:3 _The Mark of Nimueh_

Words: 2732

XiiX

_Camelot_

            Merlin had to admit, he was not expecting Camelot to be so exciting. Within one day he had got into two fights with Arthur, lost both, met the stunning Lady Morgana and her handmaiden Guinevere, stumbled upon a disgruntled witch, killed said disgruntled witch, saved Arthurs life, and was appointed as Arthurs new manservant— _as a reward_. What a crock.

            It was exhausting, but Merlin was determined to make destiny work for him and accepted his role as manservant. At least this would give him access to Arthur; he even moved into the antechamber attached to the Prince’s rooms. He had to admit the antechamber was a bit nicer than the closet of a room in Gaius’s work room, and it was a convenient way to stay close to Arthur, who apparently had a target on his back. Everyone and their brother wanted to kill the Pendragon’s.

            The following month it was some yahoo named Sir Valiant. Merlin still isn’t entirely sure what his motivations were, but he was thwarted easily enough. The warlock was so busy keeping up with his new duties and making sure no one took Arthurs head off he momentarily forgot about sorting out his destiny.

            _“Have you tried scrying again?”_ Archimedes asked one night from his hiding place in the canopy of Merlin’s bed. They only spoke telepathically while they were in the servant’s bedroom. While the warlock was closer to the knight, he also had to be stealthier or risk being caught with Archimedes or in the middle of a spell.

            Merlin sighed out loud by responded telepathically, _“I didn’t bring the crystal with me, and scrying using water hasn’t worked. I can only see a few minutes or hours ahead, and it’s so blurry.”_ Without the aid of the crystals to magnify and focus his ability to scry, Merlin was a poor seer. 

            _“Is there a potion you can you to amplify scrying without a crystal?”_

            Merlin frowned. There is a potion, some concoction added to scrying water, that can help direct a vision…but he couldn’t remember the ingredients. All he needed was to whip up something that made him hallucinate. _“Maybe Gaius knows a trick. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”_

XiiX

            After waking up late and getting Arthur’s breakfast, Merlin met Gaius in his room. “Hello Gaius can I—” The warlock stopped talking and halted mid step. Gaius had a body on the examination table. “Should I go?” He asked after he found his voice again.

            “No,” Gaius sighed and covered the corpse up with a ratty sheet. “There’s nothing I can do for this one. He’s the second case, I’m afraid. I saw another who had fallen to the same illness this morning in the lower towns.”

            “So it’s spreading, then?” Merlin asked and chewed his lip. Any mysterious danger set him on edge these days.

            “Yes, and I fear dark magic might be behind it.” Gaius lifted his chin and stared at the warlock across the room. He didn’t suspect Merlin’s involvement, but he might be able to help him identify the sorcerer behind it.

            “May I?” Merlin asked respectfully and ducked his head before approaching the man on the examination table. With the physician’s approval Merlin stepped up and withdrew the sheet.

            With his focus on the corpse Merlin felt it almost immediately—dark magic. “You’re right,” he breathed. “This is dark magic.”

            “Do you…”

            “Recognize the spell?” Merlin asked with a frown. “I’ll have you know dark magic is outlawed in Sidera and I haven’t studied it.” The Siderian Prince said a little defensively.

The older man looked apologetic but didn’t take back his question.

Merlin sighed. The warlock did not know what spell was used. “He wasn’t struck with a curse, I can tell you that much. There has to be a source of the dark magic…a poisoned drink or food, a charm, or poultice...did you find anything near him when he…passed?”

            Gaius shook his head, presumably to answer in a negative when Arthur pushed in without knocking or apologizing.

            “Merlin, what are you doing here? I told you to shuck Hroegen’s shoes and brush out his coat and mane. That horse is more valuable than your hide you better hop to it.” He sneered at his manservant but before the warlock answered he was already looking at Gaius. “My father wants to speak to you about the deaths.”

            The physician and Merlin shared a look before they walked with Arthur to see the King.

            The entire time Gaius and Uther went back and forth about the cause of the illness afflicting Camelot’s citizens Merlin felt Arthurs eyes on him. It made the skin on the back of his neck stand on end. When Arthur protested quarantining the lower towns Merlin felt a bit of affection for the idiot for the first time. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

            Merlin walked with Arthur back to his chambers afterward. He still needed to talk to Gaius about figuring out how to strengthen his scrying; and help him get to the bottom of whoever was using dark magic to kill innocent people, and eventually see to Arthur’s horse, but right now he felt the desire to be near Arthur. It seemed that the other man shared his sentiment because instead of telling Merlin to leave him to brood in front of his window, like he usually did when he fought with his father, the Prince asked him to stay.

            At first Merlin stood awkwardly between the exit and Arthur’s table, not knowing if he was expected or allowed to sit. Finally, when he couldn’t take the silence anymore, Merlin spoke up. “I think it was very noble of you to defend the people in the lower towns.”

            At first Arthur did not show any signs that he even heard the other man speak. Instead he just worked the muscles of his jaw a few times and looked down at his hand. “My father didn’t think so, did he?”

            Merlin was thankful the other man was still looking down because his face was full of panic. He had no idea how to talk to Arthur about anything personal...let alone how to talk about his relationship with the King, who Merlin hated. “I think even if your father didn’t agree with you he is still proud to have a son that will stick up for what he thinks is right. Anyone can be a tool for other people to use but true leaders are instruments for the change they feel is right.”

            That got Arthurs attention. He snapped his head up and stared at the other man with bewildered eyes. It made the warlocks heart warm embarrassingly and Merlin prayed the warmth didn’t crawl up his collar and cheeks. All Merlin could do was give him a small, gentle smile.

            The Prince shifted around in his seat and faced Merlin fully to say, “I’m amazed that someone as dim as you can say something so insightful,” and the warm feeling was gone.

            “You’re such a prat,” Merlin half laughed and half groaned.

            “You can’t call me that!” Arthur huffed, but he was smiling anyways. He was close to giving up on trying to get Merlin to stop talking back to him, at least while they were in private.

            “Yes, well, I thought I’d give prat a try when you didn’t like clotpole.” Merlin felt more comfortable all a sudden and leaned against a bed post.

            “That’s because it’s not a real word, _Mer_ lin.”

            “What about ass? That’s a real word, can I call you that?”  Merlin smirked triumphantly but then ducked as Arthur started throwing boots at his head. “So I’ll come back with your dinner, then?” Merlin asked through laughter as he bobbed and weaved toward the door.

XiiX

             Merlin wished he could say he was surprised to hear that Nimueh had been behind the deaths caused by the afanc in Camelot’s water supply. When they found the eggshell with her insignia it made sense, though. What had she said? _We’ve been fighting Uther where we can._ Merlin grimaced. Apparently that included killing innocent people.

             Maybe he was naive to think that she would actually back off now that he was claiming Camelot as his territory. He knew firsthand how vindictive the Priestess and Morgause could be.

 _“What are you doing?”_ Archimedes sounded concerned. He was currently flying high above the clouds, like he usually did on cloudy days. It was the only time he could risk expanding to his full size. Though he could not see Merlin, he could feel his frustration through their bond.

 _“Contemplating going to the Isle of the Blessed and giving that witch a piece of my mind!”_ He grumbled and threw his back into scrubbing the floor. He was in Arthur’s room and the Prince was sitting with his feet up while reviewing some documents. 

            “Don’t get mad at the floor, Merlin; not its fault you’re such a terrible manservant.” Arthur mumbled without looking up after the other man huffed for the thirtieth time.

 _"You want to confront Nimueh about the afanc?”_ Archimedes asked worriedly. _“Maybe we should contact your father—”_

            “No!” Merlin shouted out loud and Arthur jumped in his seat.

            “…no?” The Prince startled, looking around the room as if he would see another person standing behind him with a dagger in hand or something.

            “Uhh…Yes? I mean, no…no, it’s not the floors fault I’m _such a complete idiot_. You’re right, Sire.”  Merlin sputtered, desperately trying to get himself out of this pickle. Maybe talking to Arthur and Archimedes while angry and doing chores was a bit much.

           “You are so weird,” Arthur shook his head disbelieving and went back to his paperwork after giving Merlin a few skeptical glances.  

           The warlock bit his lip and started scrubbing with renewed vigor. He hated it when he embarrassed himself in front of Arthur. The Prince already thought he was a bumbling idiot; he didn’t need to erase all doubt. _“No, do not tell my father. I can handle Nimueh on my own. We’re seeing her tonight.”_

XiiX

            “My, my, my.” The High Priestess said in her honey-sweet voice that completly grated on Merlin’s nerves. “What brings the young Prince Emrys and Archimedes to the Isle of the Blessed?” She greeted them as soon as they landed on the shore.

            “You know why I’m here.” Merlin growled and threw the afanc eggshell with her official seal onto the rocky shore.

            She tossed her head back and laughed blithely. It was a starch contrast compared to the ruined backdrop all around her. “Yes, I watched as you and Prince Arthur defeated my creature. You two make a great team.” She smiled evilly at him, as if she were implying something.

            “I told you to stay out of Camelot.” He barked, not at all in the mood for her games.

            “This is not your father’s court and you would do well to remember that,” she hissed and took a threatening step toward the young man. Suddenly all her false cheer was gone. “I made no promise to cease attacking Camelot, and you said nothing about getting in bed with Arthur Pendragon.” She spat the knights’ name hatefully.

            Archimedes, currently at his full size as big as a small house, barred his teeth. “Watch your tongue, witch.” His long neck rolled forward and got between Merlin and the Priestess. “He is Emrys where ever he stands and you will not speak to him that way.”

            Nimueh hid her fear well, but not entirely. Even a Priestess of the Old Religion would have her hands full with a dragon. She could hurt him, maybe kill him if she got lucky—though with Merlin present that was unlikely—but none of that would do her any good once Balinor allowed Archimedes’ brothers and sisters to rain down on her. “I will return the respect I receive,” she bit out.

            Merlin nodded curtly in agreement to be civil and placed a calming hand on Archimedes’ neck. “I’m laying claim to Arthur Pendragon,” he said once the tension had calmed down.

            Nimueh grinned devilishly again at Merlin’s proclamation but the warlock ignored it. “Big words little Emrys,” she hummed and began to pace around. She was wearing a rich blue dress with half a dozen frayed strands spinning off in random places. It made her look more like a specter than a Priestess.

            Merlin shot back heatedly, “I mean it! He’s important to me.” He bit his lip. “He’s important to my destiny. I lay claim to Arthur Pendragon,” he repeated and fixed her with a hard glare. There was power in using someone’s full name, and Merlin was invoking his magic over the Prince of Camelot.

            But Nimueh was still smirking and eyeing him like she was ready to pounce. It made Merlin so angry his bones could melt. He needed to prove that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with anymore.

            “Make a blood oath,” Archimedes suggested. He was still eyeballing the Priestess with distrust. “Seal it with magic; you will not attack Arthur Pendragon.”

            Nimueh frowned at the same time Merlin grinned. “I desire Pendragon blood; all of it.” She said darkly, holding Merlin’s gaze. “If I am to make this oath, I want something in return.”

            Merlin regarded her skeptically. “What is it?”

            “Morgana,” she said simply. “Morgause and I want Morgana and she is not safe in Camelot, with Uther.” Her eyes narrowed angrily. “If it were up to me we would simply liberate her now, but Morgause doesn’t want to rush things.”

            Merlin knew that Morgana was Morgause’s sister. It wasn’t spoken of often because Lady Vivienne still wore the guilt of leaving her youngest child behind and Morgause was too angry. Mapri had told Merlin when he was seventeen that Morgause had a sister named Morgana and that King Uther was raising her in Camelot.

            Merlin was led to believe that she was being held prisoner; that Morgana was being kept as a testament of Uther’s victory over magic like a captured fortress. He was shocked when he was introduced to a woman who looked exactly like Vivienne, only happy and younger. She wasn’t being held prisoner and she had no idea she had family in Sidera.

            “What exactly do you want with Morgana?” He asked tentatively considering his options. In the grand scheme of things, reuniting Morgana with her sister and mother wasn’t so bad. It was certainly the lesser of two evils when compared to letting Arthur die.

            “To reunite her with Morgause, of course.” She answered quickly, too quickly. Merlin didn’t trust Nimueh for anything—but what choice did he have? “Morgause will come to Camelot. When she does you will arrange a meeting with her and Morgana. Until then, I will keep my influences out of Camelot entirely and you will protect Morgana. She has magic, Merlin. You of all people must understand how terrifying Camelot can be for us.” 

            Merlin’s hand twitched and he glanced down at Art for his opinion.

            _“It’s a good deal,”_ Archimedes told the warlock and relaxed on his haunches.

            “Fine.” Merlin said sternly and extended his bare arm.

            “Perfect.” She smiled sweetly again and held out her palm. A dagger with ancient words carved into its blade flew from the earth and into her hand seconds later. She used it to quickly and efficiently slice open the inside of her left arm and Merlin’s right, from elbow to wrist.

            Merlin hissed at the harsh touch even when he had expected it. They grasped each other’s forearms, bringing their wounds together and recited the spell in tandem, “Colligo sanguine hoc sermonum locutus est, et usque ad occurrerunt.” A golden light that matched the color in their eyes shown between their slit and crimson soaked arms; when the light dissipated the blood oath was sealed.

            Nimueh grunted lightly as they pealed apart their blood sticky arms. The wounds were healed, but scared over. The scarring would remain until both met the requirements of their blood oath. “If anything happens to Morgana the oath with be broken and I will kill Arthur,” she said darkly.

            Merlin just clamped his jaw and nodded stiffly. “And if you so much as step foot within Camelot with your putrid dark magic I will kill you.”

            “Then we have an understanding.” She drawled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!


	6. Our Choices, Our Loyalties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur tries to figure out Merlin and both have to deal with the fallout from Lancelot. Merlin realizes he has more of an influence on Arthur than he originally thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Five: OUR CHOICES, OUR LOYALTIES

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Alcohol Use, references to episode 1:5  _Lancelot_

Words: 1937

 

XiiX

_Camelot_

            Arthur didn’t hate his new manservant; it was hard to hate anyone that had saved his life. He still didn’t understand how someone as wiry as Merlin had been able to move fast enough to push him out of the way of that dagger, but he was grateful. 

            His gratitude was short lived, however, when he realized what a useless manservant Merlin was. The boy acted as if he had never done a day of manual labor in his life. He had to be taught how to do everything from sharpening armor to simple cleaning. If that wasn’t enough he was terribly mouthy. Arthur was humiliated on a regular basis by Merlin’s non-ending stream of insults. However, every time he considered sacking the imbecile he would do something entirely courageous that made Arthur look twice.

            A month after saving him from the witch at the celebration banquet Merlin stuck his neck out with Sir Valiant. Maybe Merlin just didn’t understand how dangerous it was for a servant to accuse a knight of sorcery…but Arthur got the impression he understood very well, and just didn’t care. Merlin also insisted on going with him into the vaults where the afanc was dwelling, even though the boy couldn’t wield a sword to save his life; and then weeks later somehow managed to drive an axe through the sorcerer Edwin Muirden. He continually put himself in harm’s way without being asked. It was very stupid and very admirable.

            He was told again and again by nobles and his father that servants were supposed to want to risk their life for him, the Prince. Arthur tried to overlook Merlin’s loyalty as a standard quality of a decent servant, but he couldn’t do it. Merlin was an _atrocious_ servant, but a good friend. By the fifth month Arthur was no longer tolerating Merlin and his back-chat, he depended on it.

            The realization came by surprise. One morning Merlin had to collect mushrooms for Gaius and Arthur woke up alone. With his face smashed up against a white pillow he frowned at the somberness of his room. He hadn’t woken to silence since Merlin became his manservant five months ago. He missed the clamber of dishes being shuttled in too late in the morning, and Merlin’s scuffed boots sliding against the floor. He even missed the obnoxious morning greeting followed by scalding sunlight through the window. And where the _hell_ had that come from?

XiiX

LATER, THAT SAME WEEK

            Merlin walked into Arthur’s chambers carrying a wobbly tray with a pitcher of after dinner wine and a single goblet. The warlock sighed as he set down the tray; they had a rough week between the griffin and the debacle with Lancelot. The latter had rested heavily on Merlin’s conscious and though he was relieved Arthur had helped Lancelot escape, the warlock still felt enormously guilty.

            “Sire,” Merlin acknowledge without his usual snarky humor as he set down the tray. His mind was with Lancelot, and how his meddling had made everything worse. If it was his destiny to be here with Arthur, how could his influence cause such a fuss? He had almost got the man killed.  

            The Prince grunted from behind his hand and didn’t look at Merlin as the servant poured the wine. Arthur, too, was in his own head. He was brooding after the confrontation with Uther about Lancelot’s knighthood. The man had reminded Arthur a bit of Merlin. Both came from humble beginnings but hauled around big hearts and were nobler than anyone in Uther’s court.

            Merlin went around the room like a ghost, collecting Arthur’s clothes and the tray from the Prince’s earlier dinner. “Do you want me to draw you a bath before you retire?” He asked listlessly and prayed that he would be allowed to sink back into his quiet antechamber.

            “Hm?” Arthur looked up. He had been standing with his knuckles curled over his mouth and the other hand on his hip. He was staring out his window, but not really looking at anything. He turned around and saw his servant standing in the middle of the room with a pile of clothes slung over one arm and his mostly empty dinner tray in the other. There was a plate with a few bones and a half eaten bread roll, dirtied silverware and an empty goblet.

            Merlin looked as horrible as Arthur felt. His face was more pale than usual and there were certainly some dark rings around his eyes. Merlin’s clothes were misplaced, as if he’d been twisting around and didn’t have the heart to pull his tunic or trousers in place. The boy was obviously tired, or else he would be hackling Arthur.

            “Sit down,” Arthur said suddenly and walked over the table where Merlin had left the wine. “There’s a second goblet,” he explained with a nod toward the dirty tray when the servant just blinked at him dumbly.

            The warlock looked down and saw the goblet in his hand, the one from Arthur’s dinner. “Oh. You want me to join you?” Arthur’s status as Prince had never impressed Merlin. After all, Merlin was a prince, too, but after five months of pretending to be a farm boy he had sort of accepted that Arthur would always overlook Merlin as just a bumbling servant.

            “Sit,” the knight repeated with a glare and reached for his goblet. He wanted company; he wanted Merlin’s company.

            Merlin dropped into the seat across from the other man and sat awkwardly for a moment, still cradling the Princes’ dirty clothes but had enough good sense to push the dinner tray onto the table.

            “Get rid of those!” Arthur fussed and ripped the clothing out of his servant’s hands. “Drink with me,” he groused and leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs under the table. His foot bumped against Merlin’s.

            “Ok. Thank you.” The warlock poured himself a glass of red wine and swirled it around. He hadn’t had wine since he was in Sidera. He sipped it quietly and minutes passed. Merlin felt the tension in his bones slip away and he finally relaxed his back against the chair.

            “You liked Lancelot,” Arthur observed.

            “Well yes, he’s a decent fellow.” Then Merlin quickly added, “and he saved us from the griffin.” He could just imagine Archimedes rolling in the antechamber right now, if he were listening in. The dragon, despite being rather bookish and none too fond of violence, had ripped into the griffin and managed to kill it. When Lancelot failed and Merlin was caught in the cross fire, Archimedes didn’t have much of a choice. In retrospect Lancelot had handled it very well…discovering Merlin was a sorcerer and had a dragon for a best friend.

            “Yes, he was an impressive fighter and probably the most honorable man I’ve ever met.” _Second most honorable_ , his mind snapped.

            “Too bad he wasn’t highborn, yea?” Merlin sighed and took another, deeper drink.

            “Damn my father,” Arthur growled and threw his fist down on the table. The stunt made Merlin jump in his seat and choke on the rich drink. “What a preposterous law,” he continued. “Why should the circumstances of a child’s birth have any bearing on his value as a man?”

            Merlin could hear his own heart hammering away in his chest even as he hacked all over his arm. He knew Arthur was talking about peasants becoming knights and not natural born sorcerers being treated with dignity; but this was the kind of talk that gave him hope. He gathered his wits and blinked back the tears that had welled up from coughing seconds before. “Laws can be changed,” he said tentatively and thumbed the condensation beading on his goblet.

            “Do you think I should?” He asked quietly, as if he wasn’t sure he should even be discussing the issue. They probably _shouldn’t_ be, wasn’t this treason? Arthur sounded dead serious, regardless. “When I’m King should I change the law?” Arthur’s intensity was radiating off him in waves it was making Merlin’s skin crawl.

            The warlock was silently going to pieces. Arthur was asking for his advice, and not about what tunic to wear, but over the legitimacy of a law—his fathers’ law. He was talking about changes he would make _when he was King._ Could Merlin really influence Arthur in this way? The thought had crossed his mind. Each day he grew closer to the Prince. Merlin could manipulate him, if he wanted. It wouldn’t be difficult at all. He wouldn’t even need to use magic.

            “I…I think.” He suddenly felt treacherous. He wasn’t a simple-minded servant talking to his master or even his friend. He was the Prince of Sidera. He was Emrys. He had his own agenda and he couldn’t bring himself to use his proximity to Arthur to manipulate him. “I think that when the time comes, when you’re King, you will know what to do…and know who is worthy of being one of your knights.”  Merlin exhaled, feeling relieved. He gave an honest answer without twisting things to blatantly fit his own desires.

            Arthur slumped back in his seat, relaxed like that was what he needed to hear. He took another sip from his goblet and glanced at his man servant. Even if it was just Merlin, it felt good to know at least one person believed in his judgement.

XiiX

            The two men stayed up well into the night, laughing and drinking. Merlin even had to run down stairs and retrieve another bottle. They talked about carefree things, things one would share with a friend. They talked about Morgana and Gwen; Merlin complained a bit about Gaius’s leach tank and _Arthur listened;_ the Prince shared that he hadn’t enjoy himself this much in years and Merlin blushed.

            When they finally retired, only hours before sun up, the Prince was rosy-cheeked from the wine and Merlin was less than sure-footed.

            The warlock crawled into his bed with a smile and hugged his blanket. He hadn’t even undressed before falling into the mattress.

            _“What do you think you’re doing?”_ Archimedes asked and plopped down on to Merlin’s chest, staring at him with sharp amber eyes.

            The Siderian Prince groaned and tried to push the miniaturized dragon away. _“Whad’ya mean? I’m trying to sleep.”_

Archimedes wouldn’t be moved, though. _“You choked in there!”_ He squawked in Merlin’s head. _“Did you ever think maybe your destiny is to influence that blond-haired bully into changing the law on magic?”_

The warlock sat up in bed with a scowl. _“I don’t want to_ manipulate _him. It’s underhanded and…and I couldn’t do that to Arthur.”_ Merlin answered weakly. He realized how frail his argument sounded but he couldn’t justify tricking Arthur like that.

            Archimedes slit his eyes and huffed. _“I fear you may be getting too close, Merlin. You’re here for a purpose…to save our people. If it comes down to our kind or Arthur, who will you choose?”_

_“You don’t know that I’ll have to make that choice!”_ Merlin growled and bunched his fists in the sheets. _“Arthur is a good man; he’s just misguided by Uther. That bigot has his head all twisted up. He can’t have an original thought without Uther getting ugly. Is that what you want? You want me to be like Uther, hateful and manipulative? Didn’t you see where that got Nimueh and Morgause?”_ He stopped his rant long enough to watch it all sink into Art. _“No. I won’t do it. It’s my destiny to bring peace and magic back to Albion, but I won’t do it like that.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!


	7. It Runs in the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana’s magic grows and Arthur gets bewitched by a visiting princess. Merlin takes a chance to see into his future again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Six: IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Cannon divergence episode 1:7 _The Gates of Avalon_

Words: 1930

XiiX

_Camelot_

            “Merlin grumbled and leaned against the stable door. His tunic was soaked through with sweat and he had clots of questionable origin stuck to his boots.

            “Bit jealous that you don’t have all of Arthur’s attention, hmm?” Gwen asked sweetly without halting her chores. She had a dozen of the castle’s rugs to beat clean and she was doing the work next to the stables to keep Merlin company.

            “What?” He barked and spun around with the grubby pale in hand. “I am not! I just think she’s up to something, s’all.” He started working again, maybe putting more attention on a pile of mud and shit than really appropriate.

            Her gentle smile fell. “Actually, Morgana doesn’t quite trust Lady Sophia, either.” Her face was suddenly stormy with concern. 

            “Oh?” He asked, whipping his head up again. “Why doesn’t she like her?”

            Gwen bit her bottom lip and looked around. “I don’t know…” Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at the other servant.

           Merlin always thought that Guinevere was a natural beauty that would look lovely no matter where she stood or what she wore. She was like a breath of clean air, or a cool stream on a hot day. Her beauty was in her soul, he thought. She was honest and firm. Maybe Merlin was infatuated with her sincerity because he had to keep so many secrets, but he found Gwen refreshing. Of course, her pure earnestness came with a price. Gwen couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.

            “Come on, Gwen,” Merlin almost mumbled. He was careful to be quiet so no one heard them, and to avoid startling the skittish girl. “You’re obviously worried. You can tell me.” He titled his head to the side and offered her a small smile.

           The girl nodded, “Alright.” She left her work to come forward and Merlin met her half way. “Morgana has been having nightmares about a woman…Lady Sophia…drowning Arthur. Her nightmares have been so bad that she’s asked me to stay with her a few nights.” She looked up at Merlin with her fragile mouth parted and large doe eyes. “She thinks that Lady Sophia is going to try to kill him…but she’s afraid to tell the King in case he accuses her of using sorcery. You mustn’t tell anyone, Merlin!”

           The warlock bit his tongue. He knew that Morgana had magic coursing through her veins; it was in her blood, after all. However, possessing magic did not always mean it would manifest without intent or training and he also didn’t know she was a natural seer.

           Merlin himself wasn’t a seer; he was struggling still with scrying. Only with the aid of a crystal could he actually invoke a vision. True seers, however, could have premonitions in their dreams every night, sometimes multiple dreams in one evening, and generally could scry easily. A seer could dream about events that already happened, things that will happen, things that might happen, or things that will happen miles and miles away or years and years from now. They could be confusing, even metaphorical, and a seer without proper training could become overwhelmed by the visions.

           He remembered his blood oath and scratched his arm where the scar had formed. He had to help Morgana reconnect with her heritage, with magic, with her sister while keeping her safe. He also had to protect Arthur. He said seriously and held the handmaidens eyes, “I’ll look out for Arthur, and I won’t tell a soul about the dreams.”

           Gwen relaxed, as if she believed that Merlin could make everything right. The warlock gulped, he hoped that he really could.

XiiX

            “Gaius, I need to talk to you about Morgana.” He said the next time he got the man alone.

           Immediately Gaius frowned. He, too, had made a promise about Morgana. “I was wondering when you would discover the purpose behind Morgana’s sleeping draughts.” He sighed and sat down at his bench.

            “You knew she has magic?” He asked disbelievingly. Gaius should change his title to Official Keeper of Camelot’s Secrets, as far as Merlin was concerned. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

            “I made a promise to her mother, on the night that Lady Vivienne and Morgause fled with your father. I vowed that I would watch after her; keep her safe until she could be reunited with her mother. I’ve even hidden it from her as well, for her own safety. The sleeping draughts keep the dreams at bay. I fear that, after so many years, her body is developing a resistance to the draught, or she might be becoming more powerful.” He concluded with a grim expression. “I’ve never told anyone and I didn’t tell you because you’ve got enough on your plate. It was my responsibility.” 

            “Well,” he sighed. “It’s mine too, now.” He rolled up his sleeve and explained the blood oath he made with Nimueh.

            “ _Merlin._ ” The physician chastised and gripped the younger man’s wrist. “This is powerful magic.”

            He politely jerked his arm away and shoved down his sleeve. “I know, but what choice did I have, Gaius?”

            The older man frowned. He did not envy the choices Merlin had to make on a daily basis. “Very well,” he sighed again and stood. “How is it you discovered Lady Morgana possesses magic, if you do not mind me asking?”

            “Gwen told me she was having nightmares about Lady Sophia drowning Arthur; the dreams began before Sophia and her father arrived in Camelot, though.”

            Gaius only frowned and told Merlin that he would look into it and let him know what he found. “In the meantime you might want to keep an eye on them,” he suggested.

            Merlin nodded determinedly. Now he could follow Arthur and not feel like a lost puppy, though the prat would probably accuse him of being jealous if he was caught. The warlock began to walk out, set on seeking out the Prince when Gaius stopped him.

           “I just remembered something,” he added. “On the night your father took Lady Vivienne and Morgause, he called Vivienne cousin. That would make you a relative of Morgana, wouldn’t it?”

           Merlin shrugged. His family was massive and extended. There were entire branches of his family that he had never met. “Vivienne is my grandmothers’ fourth cousin; I’m not even sure what that would make Morgana to me. But yes, Morgana and I are family. Apparently magic runs pretty deep.”

           “All the more reason to look after her, then.” Gaius smiled and clapped Merlin on the shoulder as he walked out.

XiiX

            Merlin was running through the woods trying to catch up to Arthur. He had e _loped_ with Lady Sophia and stormed out of the castle despite Uther’s threat to make heads roll. Chalk one up to moody Morgana; she was right about this one.

 _"How does your Prince even get into these situations?”_ Archimedes swore as he flew over Merlin, careful to stay high above the clouds and out of sight.

 _“Hell if I know!”_ Merlin cried and nearly tripped over a rock. He wasn’t far from the Lake of Avalon now. _“And stop calling him that! He’s not my Prince.”_

 _“Whatever you say.”_ The dragon didn’t sound convinced.

           Merlin slowed down enough to catch his breath when he approached the lake. It wouldn’t do to give himself away by wheezing all the way up to Sophia and her father.

           As he crept closer, Merlin thought how ironic it was that he was finally able to go to the Lake of Avalon. It was known among sorcerers as a serene place, deeply connected to the Old Religion. He had wanted to gaze upon it since his grandmother had told him stories when he was a child. Once he knew he would be traveling into Camelot he was excited to have the opportunity to feel its power and spirituality. 

          Instead he got sucked into the life of a manservant and secret protector, and didn’t get to go anywhere near it. Now, his first time entering the hallowed grounds, Merlin would have to taint the sanctity of its soil by killing.

          He approached just as Sophia submerged Arthur under the water.

 _“Be careful, brother.”_ Archimedes warned but Merlin knew he wasn’t far away. The dragon would swoop in if he was needed.

         But he was not needed. Merlin had been hardened in the past seven months. He had learned how to defend himself, and how to deliver vicious blows when necessary. Sophia and Aulfric died like the others did—quickly and without much trouble.

XiiX

         Merlin realized after he jumped into the Lake of Avalon that he didn’t know how to swim. He hadn’t been allowed to travel to any lakes or streams in Sidera, and when he did escape from High Tower he was usually on Archimedes’ back. He panicked when the first bit of water got up his nose from diving but Arthur was sinking to the bottom. He would drown if Merlin didn’t haul his unconscious body out of the water. 

         Merlin forced his body down the murky water and ignored how it irritated his eyes. He saw a glint of metal sparkle and _of course_ Arthur would be wearing his sodding armor. With effort that Merlin could hardly afford after running to the lake and then dueling with Sophia and her father, he finally heaved Arthur out of the water.

 _“Emrys!”_ Archimedes shouted through their link and flew dangerously low.

 _“M’fine”_ He answered shortly. Archimedes only called him Emrys when the situation was grave. It was the equivalent of a parent calling their child by their full name.

        Merlin continued to kick and crawl forward, though, and when his knees struck the pebbles along the bank and pulled himself out of the water blindly, gripping the earth under his fingers. One last yank forward and he would be out of the water. Merlin snatched at the staff Sophia left behind, making contact with the cloudy blue white stone at its head.

        Suddenly, Merlin felt a familiar rush of fogginess. At first he thought it was fatigue, but then he recognized the sensation. Sophia’s staff was crowned with a crystal, one just like the jagged orbs that lined the crystal caves. Merlin glanced over at Arthur. He was still passed out, but breathing softly into the grass. The warlock chewed on his lip, the temptation to call on the small crystal was overwhelming.

       There was so much about his future, his destiny, that was unknown. Some days he felt like he was just bumbling through life aimlessly, never knowing what direction to head in. He only had a faint idea of what destiny had in mind…but what if he could glean into the future? Merlin glanced back at Arthur, who was still out cold.

 _“Merlin, what are you doing?”_ Archimedes intoned as if he knew what was happening. _“The last time you passed out.”_

 _"Just trust me.”_ Merlin snapped and wrapped his right palm and fingers around the crystal head of Sophia’s staff. He felt confident that this time he could control it, now that he knew what to expect. Instead his vision was spotting and chill filled his veins. Merlin bent over into the lawn. “Oh no,” he groaned into the grass. 

 _“Art,”_ he called the dragon weakly. _“Don’t freak out, ok? I’ll be fine.”_ Even as Merlin was slipping away he was worried that Archimedes might lunge in to protect him if he was suddenly unconscious. He could just imagine Art standing over his body with Arthur charging in to rescue him. What a mess. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think!


	8. Arthur V. The Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archimedes is spotted and Uther talks of war with Sidera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Seven: ARTHUR V. THE DRAGON

Rating: Teen

Warning: Some adult Language

Words: 2019

XiiX

_Lake of Avalon, Camelot_

             Arthur might be having the strangest day of his life. Seconds ago he woke up drenched in lake water in full armor and no recollection of how he got there. Naturally, this had to be Merlin’s fault, and he began shouting at the servant once he got his voice back. This was unacceptable; he was supposed to be on patrol with his knights. His father was going to kill him. Then he surveyed the mouth of the lake and saw Sophia’s body, and a few feet behind her lay Aulfric. They each had an unnatural wound burned into their chest and a bizarre staff with a glowing head was pointed toward Merlin. 

            “Merlin?” He asked, still facing the dead bodies. He turned to look at Merlin, expecting to see the servant gaping in shock but instead he was slumped in the grass. Arthur dropped to his knees and pulled the other over.

           His manservant looked like he had been stabbed. His face was sickly white; his skin was clammy; his hair was stuck to his head; his mouth was parted; and his eyes were open but glossy. Merlin croaked something out while staring at the sky and a second later his eyeballs rolled back and Arthur could see the whites of his eyes. It was eerie.   

            “Merlin!” Arthur smacked his cheek twice and checked his breathing—he was out cold but alive and breathing.

Arthur quickly stripped his armor and chain mail then discarded it in a careless heap. He only kept his belt and sword snug around his hip. With the added weight gone he could move faster and scooped Merlin up. He hauled the unconscious man over one shoulder and started a jog toward the Citadel. 

            He tried to make sense of the confusing scene he woke up to. He couldn’t remember anything past the last time he went walking with Sophia, but he didn’t know how long ago that had been. Now she was dead with a magical looking staff near her body. 

            At the risk of sounding too much like his father, Arthur came to the conclusion that sorcery was somehow involved.

            He worried that Merlin had been struck with magic from the staff. Was he dying? He didn’t slow down to check if the servant was still breathing. Arthur tried to tell himself he couldn’t waste the time, but really he couldn’t risk finding out that the man had died in his arms. “Shit,” he swore and ran on. He was already feeling winded and they were only approaching the Valley of the Fallen Kings.

            Arthur had never been through the Valley before. It had been strictly forbidden since the Great Purge but going around the area would cost him precious time he wasn’t sure Merlin had. He ran into the dense forest and felt a presence as soon as he was surrounded by moss covered trees and boulders. It was suffocating.

            Animals sang and scuffled across the forest floor making all manner of noise and Arthur had to reign in his anxiety. He felt as if he was being watched and every shadow was suspicious. He wished he could carry his sword unsheathed, but he needed one hand to hold Merlin and the other for balance as he ran across the uneven terrain.

            Suddenly the animals grew quiet and an unnatural wind lashed against the tree tops. It was a bizarre wind, one that seemed to move quickly over the area and then sweep back and return. Arthur was starting to fear that something was tracking them.

            He muttered to the man over his shoulder, mostly to keep himself calm. “You saved my life again, didn’t you?” He kept up his jog, steadily trudging forth and thankful for his survival training that allowed him to pace himself.

            Arthur wished he could see Merlin’s face, but the servants’ chest was draped over his back. Instead Merlin’s thigh was pressed against his neck and face. He had to heave him up and readjust his deceivingly dense weight a few times. “You’re not at skinny as you took,” he continued talking and glanced up. He could almost make out a shape moving above the tree line, but hoped it was his imagination. He thought of the griffin that plagued them two months ago. “We’re putting you on a diet when we get back to Camelot.”  

             A pang ripped through his chest when he considered the possibility of Merlin not making it back to Camelot. “You think dying is going to get you out of doing work? You lazy sod, I didn’t give you permission to die.” He started running faster, damn his training.

            When Arthur finally broke into the clearing between the Valley of the Fallen Kings and Camelot the Prince almost laughed in relief. He saw a line of knights riding toward them. They were most likely out looking for Arthur. The knights had an extra horse with them; it was Hroegen.

            “Here!” He called and threw one arm up in the arm to hail them; the other cradled Merlin’s back.

            His knight’s halted, though, and started shouting at him. At first Arthur couldn’t make out their words but then he saw Leon flag him down, as if to get low on the ground and Arthur looked up.

            A dragon was stalking them in the sky.

            “Fucking hell,” He startled and staggered back in shock. He had never seen a dragon before. He had heard of them, how they circled over the Siderian boarder and flexed their wings challengingly. He had even seen pictures of them drawn into old texts that Uther kept under lock in key, strictly for defensive purposes. Books and stories, however, did not do this creature justice. It was the dark color of rusted chain mail with ferocious black barbs protruding from the back of his head down its massive tail. Its eyes were large, amber, and cunning. This beast was not simple-minded, of that Arthur was sure. Most impressive of all, however, was the dragon’s sheer size. It was gargantuan and foreboding, like a storm cloud swollen with rain and lightning and it was staring right at Arthur. 

            He locked eyes with the dragon and tightened his grip on Merlin defensively. He thought about unsheathing his sword again but then Merlin mumbled. He didn’t have time for a fight. He took one step back, still watching the creature in the sky clap its wings. When the dragon didn’t advance he took another and then another. He got about seven paces from the forest and turned around to run.

His knights were spurred into action again and met him half way. When Arthur looked back—he only did it once—the dragon was diving into the Valley of the Fallen Kings and disappeared.  

            “Prince Arthur!” Leon called and swung off his horse. “What happened?” He, too, was casting careful glances at the Valley. 

            Arthur hoped he didn’t look as frightened as he felt. He was definitely having the strangest day of his life. “I don’t know. Merlin’s ill.” He explained and placed the servant on Hroegen before saddling the horse himself. “You three,” he pointed to a fraction of the knights and spoke a little breathlessly. “Go to the Lake of Avalon. Lady Sophia and her father lay there dead. You will also find my armor and a staff. I suspect the staff to be magical; be careful handling it.” He was already rearing his horse for a fast ride back to Camelot by the time he finished giving his orders.

XiiX

            “A dragon,” Uther roared as Arthur concluded his tale. “This far south? It’s unheard of!” He had disregarded everything Arthur had said after he heard about the dragon. First he was deeply concerned that Sophia and her father had been using magic, and most likely lured his son into the lake to drown, but they were dead.

            “Yes father. I believe it followed me from the Lake of Avalon all the way out to the edge of the Valley of the Fallen Kings.” The Prince answered diligently, though his mind was elsewhere. He had carried Merlin all the way to Gaius and stayed with him until his father ordered him to report what had happened. Even now Arthur just wanted to return to Merlin’s bedside.

            “Well did the thing say anything? What did it want?” Uther looked like he might keel over any moment from his outbursts.

            “It didn’t say anything; it just stared at me and then let me run away.” The Prince shifted from one foot to the other, feeling awkward to admit that he had fled. It wasn’t like him, but then again when he fled it wasn’t about him. It was about Merlin.

            “This is an outrage!” Uther hollered and spun around to look out a window that faced southwest, toward the Valley of the Fallen Kings. “If there are dragons here then the Dragonlord knows of it. They could be spying on us, or planning something. Oh, those bold savages! If they mean to bring war, I will not disappoint them!” An engorged vein thrummed on the side of Uther’s sweat damp head. “They will hear about this,” he added and scowled behind his clenched fist.

            The Prince was at once relieved that they were alone. His father was talking about war, with Sidera. The faraway Kingdom had gone through great lengths to avoid all-out war with Camelot, and generally maintained a peaceful relationship with the rest of Albion. Uther hated it.

            For the longest time the plan had simply been to isolate Sidera, starve them out, and hope that a non-magical fraction of their Kingdom would finally snap. It was believed that non-magical citizens were treated as second class in Sidera; if they grew tired of poverty caused by lack of trade, and rationing, and sharing their goods with thousands of refugees, Balinor would lose control.

            This had been the plan for years. On the surface the strategy seemed clever, but it was truly cowardly. In all actuality, Camelot could never hope to take Sidera in open battle. Sidera’s terrain was mountainous and the dragons kept close watch on the boarders—Camelot’s forces would never survive the march to the Siderian capitol.

             “Father, war with Sidera…wouldn’t that be dangerous? We have a healthy army but the Siderian dragons are formidable. The one I saw, it was massive. I don’t know that we could defeat them.”

            Uther frowned deeply. “You let me worry about that. Mark my words Arthur, when you take the thrown one day it will be without the dangers of magic in Albion.” Arthur knew that Uther tirelessly searched for a way to demolish Sidera. He had a specialized group of scholars researching forbidden text, looking for a weakness. To date Uther had been unsuccessful but in his later years he was becoming more and more desperate to obliterate magic and Sidera. 

            “Your manservant,” the King snapped suddenly and Arthur had to force himself not to jump. “You bring him to me when he wakes up. He may know more, seeing as you don’t recall anything after yesterday.”

            The Prince reddened. He felt a swath of shame consume him when he discovered he had lost an entire day of his life after being enchanted by Sophia. But his humility was short lived. Uther wanted to interrogate Merlin. “Of course, father.” He said tactfully. “Gaius tells me the servant,” he chose his words carefully so that Uther didn’t suspect anything, “has experienced a bit of fatigue. He should be awake within a day,” he hoped. “Gaius also informed me that he will most likely be severely weak after he wakes; it might be best for us to question him when he’s back to full health, otherwise we may jostle his memory rather than jog it.”

            The King didn’t look phased, which was a good sign. “Yes, good point, son.” He said without interest. It was clear Uther wanted to be left to his own thoughts now. “I’ll defer to your judgment on the matter. You are excused.”

             Arthur raced back to the physicians’ room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think!


	9. What the Future Told Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin wakes up from his vision with good and bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Eight: WHAT THE FUTURE TOLD ME

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Short Chapter, sorry.

Words: 1195

XiiX

_Camelot_

            “Ohh,” Merlin moaned and grabbed his head. It was spinning. “Bollocks that hurts.”

            “Merlin, my boy.” Gaius was up and moving in and instant. “Here, have some water.” He handed the young warlock a pint of water and sat next to him. “You’ve had another vision, Archimedes told me what to expect.”

            Merlin blindly accepted the water but didn’t open his eyes. He felt like death warmed over. His head was pounding as if he had survived a night of heavy drinking and he was sensitive to light and sound. “Arthur?” He asked with a hoarse voice after he cleared his first cup.

            Gaius sighed. He should have known that the first thing Merlin would ask about would be the Prince. “He’s fine. I don’t suppose you remember defeating Sophia and her father before you pulled him out of the lake do you?”

            The warlock frowned. “No, not really.” He tentatively pealed apart his eyelids. Luckily it was past sunset and the physicians’ chambers were not well lit.

            _“Art, where are you?”_ He called out to the dragon, knowing he would be beside himself with worry by now.

            _“I’m hiding in the Valley of the Fallen Kings.”_ He answered sheepishly, as if he were expecting Merlin to be angry with him.

            _“Why are you all the way out there?”_ He asked as Gaius began talking about whatever Sophia was after with Arthur. He held up a finger to politely inform the physician he was talking. 

            _“Arthur saw me,”_ the dragon answered quickly. Merlin could just see Archimedes put a bashful claw over his scaly face.

            “He what!?” Merlin hollered and Gaius raised an eyebrow. “Gaius, Arthur saw Art?”

            The physician nodded slowly. “It appears so,” he answered and Merlin thought he sounded far too blasé. “To be more precise, Arthur and about seven other knights saw Archimedes.”

            Merlin groaned and collapsed back onto the examination table. He felt faint again. _“Did anyone see you interacting with me?”_

            _“No,”_ Archimedes mumbled through their link. _“After you fell unconscious I followed you from the Lake of Avalon through the Valley of the Fallen Kings until a troop of knights found you. I flew back into the Valley afterward, and I took the Sidhe staff.”_ He explained hurriedly.

 _“I told you I was fine!”_ Merlin protested. He didn’t need this added complication right now.

            “Merlin,” Gaius said with some urgency. “We need to speak quickly. Arthur was very concerned about you and I’m certain he will return any minute.” He glanced at the doorway. “What happened?”

            “Alright, ok.” He waved his hand distractedly and shot Archimedes a short, _“Just, stay put for a while. I’ll deal with you later.”_

            He felt like he was being pulled in three directions at once and running on empty. “You know I need food, right?” The warlock huffed at the physician. He knew he would have time to eat later, though. Once Arthur flew in here he wouldn’t have a moment alone to get his story straight with Gaius. He explained what happened with Sophia and the two groomed it for retelling. If anyone asked them about it they would be on the same page. 

            Gaius refilled Merlin’s pint of water and handed it to him. “And your vision? Were you able to scry using the staff?”

            “Oh,” he breathed. He had almost forgotten about that. Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to starve off the headache there. “I don’t think it worked as well as last time. The crystal was much smaller, I didn’t even know the Sidhe had crystals.” He groaned. “I wonder if this ever gets any easier, it bloody hurts.”

            “Merlin,” Gaius coaxed gently. “We haven’t much time. I don’t think you understand how worried Arthur was when he left. If the King hadn’t ordered him away he would still be here.”

            The warlock colored. “He was—never mind, you’re right. Sorry. Uh, Ok, ok…” He paused and tried to pull the information forward. It was like last time, he saw snippets of his own future as if they were memories...he could hear words being spoken. “I saw a battle. Camelot was fighting…but, I don’t know who with. Arthur is there, fighting, and he’s got the most spectacular sword.” His eyes were pinched shut. “I saw Arthur take the thrown as King,” he frowned deeply and stopped.

             “What is it?” Gaius urged.

            Merlin turned to face the physician. “He’s—Arthur, he’s slain by a young man. His name is Mordred and, he runs him through with a sword and I’m not there to protect him!” The warlock was close to tears now and had to swallow just to spur his throat into action. The images were fresh, as if he had just lived through the event, and the emotions were just as vivid. “I saw the Druids coming to his grave in droves, calling him the Once and Future King and paying homage to him...Gaius if the Druids attend his funeral then maybe magic is welcomed back in Camelot but…” but he didn’t want Arthur to have to die for this to happen.

            It was funny; Merlin had accepted that he himself may have to die for his destiny but he had never considered Arthur having to forfeit his own life.

            Gaius could see the wheels turning in Merlin’s head. “Not all things are set in stone. I think you should talk to Arthur.”

            Merlin was about to strongly argue against that line of logic when another voice cut in.

            “Talk to me about what?” Arthur asked at the doorway with his arms crossed and looking like someone just kicked his puppy. He glanced from Merlin to Gaius and back to his manservant when no one answered him immediately.

            “That I-I, I’m too weak to go back to work right now, m’fraid.” Merlin lied through his teeth, voice still shaking. “Doctor’s orders, I need lots of rest and a big dinner.” He petted his growling stomach.

            “Hm,” Arthur furrowed his brow and pinched his lips closed. “Very well,” he answered tightly and uncrossed his arms. “You might as well enjoy it because tomorrow my father is going to want to talk to you about what happened, and I’m going to work you like a dog for nearly getting yourself killed!” 

            Merlin gulped. He was not looking forward to speaking with Uther. “Oh? O-OK.” Automatically he began moving. After all, he couldn’t stay on Gaius’ table all night, but as soon as he put his weight on his foot his leg turned to mush.

            Arthur was across the small room in a second, though. He halted the servants fall by holding a firm hand out and threw one of Merlin’s arms over his shoulders. “Idiot, you just said you need rest. What are you doing?” He admonished with his mouth far too close to the other man’s ear.

Gaius let out a breath of relief when Merlin didn’t fall on his face and gave the Prince a stern glare. “He really does need to rest.”

            Arthur nodded. “Don’t worry,” he then added with a completely serious expression, “I’ll get him to bed.”

            Merlin wanted to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think!


	10. To Protect You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur takes care of Merlin in the aftermath of his vision; they talk about war with Sidera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Nine: TO PROTECT YOU

Rating: General Audiences 

Warning: None 

Words: 2025

XiiX

            “I can’t believe you helped me all the way up the stairs,” Merlin laughed as they hobbled into Arthur’s chambers.

            “Yes, well, don’t get used to it, _Mer_ lin.” The Prince sighed and walked Merlin to the antechamber connected to his own rooms.

            The warlock bit his lip as he was dropped onto his bed. His clothes were still damp from being in the water earlier that day. He assumed they had mostly dried by the time Arthur brought him back and no one tried to change him while he was unconscious—for which he was thankful.

            “You need to eat, don’t you?” Arthur asked, standing in the small space of Merlin’s bedroom awkwardly. He was frowning and twitching his fingers as if he felt the need to do something, but didn’t know quite what.

            “Yea, I do, actually.” His stomach was rolling in agony by now and he almost felt sick.

            “Alright.” Arthur nodded, seemingly thankful for a task, and headed for the door. He wanted to ask Merlin what happened, almost as much as his father did, but he also wanted the servant to regain his strength. He looked like a man who had been brought back from death.

            Meanwhile Merlin was beside himself. He knew Arthur could be kind when he felt like it but he really expected the assistance up the steps to be the end of it for tonight. Affection warmed his chest, and not for the first time.

            _“He cares about you, too.”_ The dragons’ voice jarred Merlin from his thoughts. He must have been able to sense Merlin’s feelings and decided to chime in. _“You should have seen him carry you back to Camelot. I think he was ready to fight me to protect you,”_ Archimedes chuckled.

            Merlin forced himself not to flush at being caught by Archimedes. Sometimes their connection was a blessing; sometimes it gave him a headache. _“So do you like him now?”_ Merlin asked bravely but kept an eye on Arthur. The Prince had popped his head into the hall and called someone over.

            Archimedes had _not_ liked Prince Arthur at first. The knight’s parentage was bad enough and his initial cruelty didn’t help matters, either. Arthur also had not won any points with the dragon as he made sport out of torturing Merlin with back-breaking and humiliating tasks. Merlin was the Prince of Sidera, not a slave. He was Emrys, not Arthur’s whipping boy. No, Archimedes did not like the knight and only ever behaved himself because Merlin asked him to be patient.

            Tonight, however, Arthur had earned a degree of respect from Archimedes. _“I like how he protected you,”_ is all the dragon said.

            Merlin grinned liked a lunatic.

            “What are you smiling about? Oh no, you’ve got entirely mad, haven’t you?” Arthur asked and placed a hand against Merlin forehead.

            “Shut up, prat.” The warlock pushed him away lightly.

            “Your food will be up in a minute. I told them it was for me, so hopefully the kitchen pulls together something decent.” Arthur was standing in the middle of the servants’ room again.

            “Thanks, that was nice of you.” The small space was quiet for an unbearable minute and finally Merlin spoke up again, “I should probably get out of these clothes…”

            Arthur reddened. “I’ll leave you alone.”

            “No, it’s alright!” The servant cried and nearly threw himself out of the bed but caught his balance in time. “Just, give me a second, and we can talk.” Now Merlin was blushing. “I mean, if you want to, of course.”

            “Do you want to?”

            Merlin gulped. He was too fatigued to be dealing with this right now. “I—” he was cut off by a knock at the door.

            Thankfully Arthur turned to get it, and shut the door on his way out.

            Merlin changed as quickly as he could. The damp clothes left his skin feeling clammy and chilled. His stomach snarled at him again and Merlin nearly lost his balance but he managed to shimmy into a clean pair of trousers and tunic. He wouldn’t feel right changing into his sleep shirt when he knew Arthur would be back.

            He staggered to the door and pulled it back. Arthur was on the other side waiting with a plate of food in his arms. “I could get used to this,” Merlin sniggered and tried to accept the tray.

            The Prince jerked the plate away with a dirty look. “Go sit down,” he ordered. It was amazing that Arthur was still commanding when he was essentially serving the _servant_ dinner.   

            Merlin continued to grin but did at he was told. He moved back into his room and slowly crawled up on to the bed. He pushed himself back and sat cross legged on the mattress. He licked his lips and held out his arms for the food, thinking this whole thing was weird.

            Arthur acted as if everything was normal, however, and deposited the food with Merlin and left to retrieve a chair from the other room. He positioned the chair across from the bed and sat down. Apparently he planned on watching Merlin eat.

            “So,” the warlock began as he cut into a pork chop. “Do you remember how you got out by the lake?”

            “No,” Arthur answered. He sounded very troubled. Merlin figured that the Prince wouldn’t take too kindly to being manipulated like that. Free will was very important to the knight. “I was hoping you could fill me in, actually.”

            Merlin washed down a mouthful of food with wine before he recited his doctored version of events. He explained how he and Gaius grew suspicious of Sophia and her father, and that he had done some research about fairies when Gaius suspected magic was involved. Arthur cringed when Merlin said he knew Arthur was bewitched when he eloped with Sophia. The expression _love spell_ was used and Arthur paled.

            “When I arrived at the lake they were both dead and you were under the water. I assume the Sidhe killed them, but I didn’t really think about it at the time.” Merlin rushed over the part where he slayed them as quickly as possible. “You know, just wanted to get you out of the water.” He talked with his hands, moving around a fork with a roasted carrot on the end.

            Arthur was partially relieved that Merlin didn’t know more than that, and also wary. The less he knew the less attention Uther would pay him, which was good, but Arthur felt that the servant wasn’t telling him something. “If you weren’t attacked then why did you pass out like that?”

            _Shoot._ Merlin cursed himself. He hadn’t thought of that. “Oh, well,” he pretended to be embarrassed. “I hadn’t had anything to eat before and, uhm, I don’t really know how to swim. I think I swallowed a bit of lake water. Between an empty stomach and the lake…” It was only a half lie, he told himself as his conscious burned. He hated lying to Arthur.

            “You don’t know how to swim!” Arthur shouted. “What were you thinking? You could have got yourself killed!” Never mind he would have died if Merlin hadn’t jumped in after him. 

            “Yea, yea, I know. Not one of my brighter moments.” He grinned, totally not sorry and not really trying to hide it.

            Arthur grunted. “I would say so!” He could hardly believe he had been rescued by _Merlin,_ a scrawny servant who couldn’t even _swim!_ “You’re not to do that again,” he grumbled half embarrassed and half worried that Merlin’s luck would run out one day. 

            “Don’t save your life, Sire? Where would you be without me?” Dead, definitely dead, his mind supplied.

            “Tomorrow my father is going to question you,” Arthur said and ignored his servants playful smiling. “He’s going to be a bit…persistent about it. We spotted a dragon on the way back from the Lake of Avalon and he’s on edge.”

            Of course Arthur would expect any reasonable bloke to react badly to news of a dragon within Camelot so Merlin tried his best. “A dragon?” He gasped, sounding positively scandalized.

            “Yes,” Arthur returned darkly. “It followed us from the lake, through the Valley of the Fallen Kings but stopped there. It was very bizarre.” He shook himself. “I’ve never seen a dragon before; it was terrifying, like a big storm cloud. The knights are calling it Thunder because of the sound its wings made.”

            Merlin fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he leaned further back in the bed. “Wow, that’s peculiar, isn’t it? I didn’t even know dragons came down this far south.” He realized he should probably contact his father. Balinor needed to know about his vision and that Archimedes had been spotted.

            “My father is rather agitated. He thinks it might be a spy from Sidera, or that they may attack us.”

            Merlin stopped chewing. “What?” He croaked, immediately feeling like a traitor to both sides.

            “I know,” Arthur breathed a slumped back into the chair. “Can you believe it? We might have to go to war with Sidera.”

            The warlock wanted to shrivel up and die. He had just seen Camelot engaged in battle in his vision, he saw Arthur dying, and now Uther was talking about attacking Sidera. “But they’ve done everything possible to stay neutral,” he protested on instinct.

            “They’re all sorcerers, Merlin.” Arthur looked at his servant like the boy had grown a second head. “They keep dragons like pet wolves and treat their non-magical citizens like slaves, or worse cattle to sacrifice to satisfy Nimueh into giving them healthy crops year after year. They’re too powerful to be trusted. Can you imagine if one day Balinor decided to attack Camelot? There’s nothing we could do to defend ourselves.” The Prince had risen up in his seat, getting defensive, and he didn’t know why. An hour ago he had thought the same thing—we should avoid war. Now Merlin was throwing out the same concerns and Arthur was jumping to Uther’s defense.

            Merlin felt a sheet of ice wrap around his heart. Arthur’s words felt like a betrayal and he couldn’t very well defend himself—even if all of Arthur’s ideas about Sidera were incorrect. Uther’s campaign to paint Sidera as a hostile place for non-magic users had been very successful. There were more misconceptions than truth known about his home and Merlin couldn’t even correct Arthur. “I just, I don’t think going to war with them is a good idea. Let sleeping dogs lie, and all that.” He tried to recover, but he was certain hurt was still etched in his face.

            “Well,” Arthur sighed and stood up. Merlin was done eating now and they both needed rest. “I think my father has his mind made up about the issue. He promised me that he would find a way to eliminate magic before I took the throne.” He took the empty tray off Merlin’s bed and moved toward the door. “Tomorrow just make an appointment to see the King, otherwise consider yourself a free man for the day.” He shut the door before Merlin could say thank you.

           When his bedroom door clicked shut Merlin felt all of the warmth snuff out of his chest. Moments ago he had felt so close to Arthur, and now the Prince might as well been miles away.

            Arthur had carried him for miles on his back, and then had to be forced away from his side by the King. Arthur helped him upstairs, got him food, and gave him the following day off. He cared, right? He wouldn’t do that for just any servant. Merlin was certain he cared, even Archimedes saw it.

            Then Arthur had to bring up Sidera. _If he knew who I was he’d have me killed._

Merlin extinguished the single candle by his bed and curled up on his side. He was thankful Archimedes was still out. Though the dragon would be able to sense Merlin’s sadness, he at least wasn’t here to try to comfort the warlock. Merlin didn’t think he could handle hearing Archimedes tell him Arthur was a lost cause.

_iii_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I cut the Poisoned Chalice Episode out of my time line I wanted to add a piece where Arthur goes above and beyond for Merlin. Defying Uther and going on a quest to find a cure to poison is more intense, but it’s still special that he carried Merlin for miles, was willing to fight a dragon, walked him upstairs, and fed him. I hope that makes sense.


	11. The Once and Future King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin meets with his father and they discover how Merlin and Arthur are entwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Ten: THE ONCE AND FUTURE KING

Rating: General Audience

Warnings: Shorter chapter

Words: 1503

  
XiiX

_Elmet, The Perilous Lands_

            The next night Merlin and Archimedes flew to the Perilous Lands, meeting Balinor and Duracca in an expansive, empty moor. The land was creepy, with muddy brown swamps littering the ground, making it wet and difficult to walk over. Steam rose from the hundreds of puddles, creating a thick fog and there was no light or sound to disturb the eerie landscape. No one traveled there; even bandits and thieves avoided the area…but it was cloaked in darkness and a safe place for the four to meet.

            The dragons were just as excited to see one another as father and son were relieved. Archimedes, still with Merlin on his back, thrashed his wings harder, driving them in closer once he could see his older brother.

            “Duracca!” The younger dragon cried happily and nearly collided with the black dragon. Duracca took it all in stride, though, and nuzzled his massive black head against Archimedes neck in a warm greeting.

            “It is nice to see you, too, brother.” Duracca laughed deeply. His voice was like gravel, unlike Archimedes who would eternally sound a little petulant.

            Balinor was standing off to the side smiling and shaking his head when Merlin jumped off Archimedes. He closed the distance between them and gathered Merlin up in a loving hug. “It’s been too long,” he said into Merlin’s nape.

            The Prince agreed. He missed his parents, and his home. He was even starting to miss Freya. “I know. I’m sorry I haven’t met with you sooner.” He squeezed his father tighter.

            Balinor pulled them apart then, “No, you’re doing what you must.” He held his son by the shoulders. They spoke briefly of matters unrelated to Merlin’s turbulent destiny. Balinor talked about Mim and Map, their magic was improving and they were always strongest when they worked together; Mapri was looking for a successor to take over the refugee task force; Hunith was staying busy with his sisters and missed Merlin terribly but she would never cry about it; his cousin Rhodor was becoming a fine rider and would most likely be promoted soon; his younger brother Lionel was following in his footsteps and Margo and Freya had gotten in a fight, though Balinor didn’t know what about. Finally, when the pleasantries were done, his father asked the important question. “Archimedes tells me you had another vision.”

            Merlin felt like glaring at the dragon. Of course, he would mention the vision, and not fess up about being spotted by a troop of Camelot knights. _“Thanks for leaving me with the fun stuff,”_ he shot over to Art and the orange dragon halted his frolicking with Durra. The two dragons looked like giddy horses. “I saw someone kill Arthur and Druids attend his funeral, they’re calling him the Once and Future King. Does that mean anything to you?”

            Balinor stiffened. “The Druids are calling Prince Arthur the Once and Future King?”

            “Well, yes, at his funeral.” Merlin explained, looking at his father with expectation. “What is it, you know something.”

            The Dragonlord scrubbed a large hand over his face and Merlin noticed new lines and more grey in his beard. “We always assumed that you were…” He shook his head and turned to face south, toward Camelot. He squinted, and then released a breath. “Now I understand why your destiny is with Arthur.”

            Merlin tried to be calm, but he was truly sick and tired of everyone knowing more than he did. “Father,” he intoned and Balinor turned around with his hands on his hips.

            “There are many names for you, remember?” Balinor began. “Emrys is the name that the Druids and the dragons know you by, but you are known outside of Albion and in other lands you have other names.”

            Merlin nodded his head. He was aware that his coming had been something of legend from all around the world, for all time. There were even some legends that suggested that Merlin himself was timeless, or immortal. “Yes, I know.”

            “There is a prophecy of a great king, referred to only as the Once and Future King, who is responsible for bringing peace to Albion and reuniting magic with the realm of man. We always assumed that you were the Once and Future King, that it was just another one of your names. You will be a King, after all, and we already knew it was your destiny to reunite Albion with magic. We always assumed the prophecies were about you…that it was one single destiny.” Balinor held his chin in thought and looked into the distance again. “But prophecies are tricky things, and sometimes mistakes are made…”

            “What, are you saying that I’m not Emrys?”

            “No,” Balinor said sternly and faced his son again. “You are Emrys; of that I am sure. However, if Arthur is the Once and Future King…this means that what we always thought was a single destiny for Albion is truly two, and they are entwined.”

            Merlin felt like the stars were aligning in that moment. He realized that it was clarity that he was feeling, a lucid moment of truth. His connection with Arthur now made sense. “Tell me about the Once and Future King.” He wanted to hear about Arthur, about who he would be.

            Balinor obliged. They talked for hours; first the Dragonlord shared everything he knew about the lore surrounding the Once and Future King—he was told to be a fair and honorable man. He would wield a blade forged from dragon’s breath (another reason they believe Merlin, being a future Dragonlord, was the Once and Future King) and its name was Excalibur. He would use Excalibur to defeat dark magic, and the people of the Old Religion and the New would unite through peace, not war. His rein would be prosperous and the realm would see an age of advancement.

            Then Merlin shared with his father the missing parts in the tales he had been hearing from Archimedes. He told Balinor that Arthur was being brainwashed by Uther, but that he had stood up for Merlin on more than one occasion. He described how he cared about those who were less fortunate, and he was beginning to question some of Uther’s decisions. He also admitted that Arthur had much growing to do if he was going to become a King of Legends. Finally, Merlin explained the fiasco involving Archimedes’ sighting.

            “This happened yesterday, then?” Balinor asked grimly. He was not happy to hear that they might have to answer to Uther. Dragons were recognized at Siderian citizens, and had the same rights and liabilities. Having Archimedes flying over their land was the same as Balinor strolling into the Citadel unannounced.

            “Yes, and Uther...well, I thought he was a bit of a nutter before. Now he just stark raving mad. I think he’s really serious about going to war with Sidera.” He looked at his father with concern.

            It was so easy for Merlin to forget that he was actually taller than his father and possessed more powerful magic. To Merlin, his father would always be a mighty ruler, more brave and strong than he could ever hope to become.

            “You let me worry about that,” Balinor sighed and slapped his son on the back. “Uther has been thinking of war with us since you were born, but he is all talk. He knows better than to ride on us.”

            Merlin still felt uncertainty settle in his belly. “And what about Mordred?”

            The Dragonlord frowned. “I’ve heard none of a man by that name in passing or in legend but…” he paused and looked at his son with hard eyes. “If this man is to kill Arthur, then you must do what you must to see that this does not happen. These visions are meant to tell you something. Perhaps you will soon have an opportunity to stop whatever forces set in motion that lead to his death…if you get the opportunity, take it. Do you understand? You know his face, you know his name; you won’t be by Arthur’s side in the future, so do what you can now to see that this fate isn’t set in stone.”

            Merlin nodded, unable to speak. He had no idea what would be required of him in the future; but right now his father, his Dragonlord, was ordering him to kill on sight. The warlock had taken lives since he came to Camelot. It was something his father had tried to prepare him for years ago, when he was still more of a boy than a man. It was a grim conversation. Balinor had sat his son down in the throne room and they shared a tankard of mead. _“It’s sometimes the duty of a ruler to take life to protect it. That might not make sense now,”_ he had said. Merlin imagined then that this was a conversation previous kings and dragonlords had with their first-born sons. What an awful inheritance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think.


	12. Camp Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin go on a private hunting trip and Arthur seems upset. Merlin tells him stories to make him feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Eleven: CAMP FIRE

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 2354

XiiX

_Somewhere in Camelot’s woods_

           “A hunting trip,” Merlin whined and fought the urge to simply drop everything in his arms in protest. “I thought you said you were feeling stressed?” _Merlin_ was feeling stressed. He had been on edge since his meeting with his father at the end of last month.

            Every time he saw someone that resembled the man he saw in his vision— sickly pale skin, dark hair, icy lifeless eyes— his heart stopped. He would hardly leave Arthur alone for more than a few hours, and frequently checked on him during the night. Something was going to happen soon, something important. He could feel it in his bones. He just didn’t know what it was, and he was a nervous wreck with anticipation.

            The Prince looked at his manservant tiredly. “I am under immense stress, though I’m sure you’re not familiar with the concept. The most important decisions you have to make daily is whether to muck out the stables before or after lunch.” He was already laying out the clothes he would need to take on the trip. This was Merlin’s job, but it would get done faster if he just did it himself. “And a hunting trip will help me relax,” he added.

            The warlock rolled his eyes. He couldn’t understand how killing something for sport could be fun or relaxing. They would just be trotting through the woods, getting sweaty and dirty and lost, or at least Merlin was sure to get lost at least once. He was not looking forward to it. He sighed in defeat, though. It’s not like he could change Arthurs mind. “So should I prepare the horses, then?”

            “Yes,” the Prince returned curtly. “Just two though, we’ll be going alone.”

            Merlin’s shoulders relaxed. He hated leaving the castle with a group. It made him nervous to be surrounded by so many people, some he trusted and some he didn’t, and far away from Camelot. Worst still, when they traveled with others there were always someone that assumed to be closer to Arthur than Merlin and he was sometimes excluded. Or, Arthur just turned into a bigger ass than usual to keep up appearances with the knights. It was miserable for Merlin. However, if it were just the two of them, maybe the venture could be relaxing.

XiiX

            This was the farthest thing from relaxing since Merlin started training with Master Antle and got his ass handed to him when he was twelve.

             Arthur, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He was currently laying on one side, propped up on an elbow, and laughing like a lunatic. “You look like a wet rat,” he gasped out between breaths. “With, with your ears and the hair!” He held his splayed fingers out next to his own face as a demonstration.

            Merlin quickly pat down his soaked hair, trying to use the locks to cover his freezing ears. “I do not,” he protested and lifted the scratchy blanket around so it fit right under his nose.

            “Yes you do!” Arthur fell over then, too exhausted from laughing to stay on his side. “Oh,” he sighed and placed a hand over his belly. It was sore from laughing so hard. “I haven’t laughed like that in years. See? What did I tell you? Hunting trips are relaxing.”

            “Prat,” he muttered into the blanket and glared at the other young man. Merlin had been trotting behind Arthur all day, carrying a crossbow and extra arrows. He offered to stay back with the horses’ countless times and he never did understand why Arthur didn’t just let him go. His noisy breathing and sloppy footwork just scared away the game. Then, mercifully, when Arthur was done for the day, they stopped by a river to refill their canteens. It wasn’t an especially deep river; but it was swift and the bank was slippery and Merlin fell.

            Of course he fell. One foot lost its barring, and he was crashing face first into the bank. Arthur, trying to be helpful, grabbed his flailing arm but only managed to turn Merlin around so that he landed on his butt instead of his head. Arthur fell in the opposite direction, laughter erupting from his mouth before he even hit the grassy bank.

            Merlin had been drenched from head to toe, and the water was cold.

            Now he was sitting by the fire with nothing but his pants on, wrapped up in a tattered brown blanket and his clothes drying near the blaze. A rock or twig or something was digging into his sore behind; he was tired and hungry—now wishing Arthur had killed something and the prat wouldn’t shut up.

            “Well I’m glad _you’re_ having a good time,” the warlock sniffed. He really wished he could perform a simple drying spell but it was too risky with Arthur sitting there. He was bound to notice.

             “Oh I always enjoy it when you make a fool out of yourself,” Arthur chuckled lightly and made a show out of wiping a tear out of the corner of his eye.

            Merlin just grumbled some more and threw another log on the fire. The sun hadn’t even fully set and it was already getting chilly.

            “Didn’t you pack anymore clothes?” The Prince asked and popped a tuff of bread in his mouth.

            “No,” he pulled up the blanket again. It kept slipping off his shoulders and exposing his slim chest. “It’d only be more stuff for me to carry around.” He explained and ducked into the blanket. It was warmer under there. “Besides,” he poked his head up, “I don’t have many clothes anyways.” He had two outfits. If he soiled both out on this trip he’d have nothing clean to wear when they returned.

            “Winter’s coming about,” Arthur commented casually.

            Merlin just grunted. He still wasn’t over being laughed at mercilessly.

            “Well?” The Prince asked, sounding rather annoyed when his servant didn’t pick up on whatever he was getting at. “You have proper clothing, don’t you? That ridiculous neckerchief isn’t going to get you through the winter.”     

            “Oh,” Merlin ducked down farther into his blanket. “No, I don’t, actually.” He was accustomed to winters far worse than Camelot had ever seen. Sidera was farther north, and Dragons Keep was situated high on a mountain. Even during the summer there was some snow tucked away on the highest mountain ridges. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he said and nodded to himself. Although, in Sidera Merlin always had thick fur coats and blankets to keep him warm.

            Arthur wasn’t convinced. “Don’t you have a coat, or something?” He glanced over to the ragged brown leather jacket Merlin wore everywhere. “Tell me that’s not all you’ve got.”

            The warlock shrugged. He himself had been surprised at how little he missed the luxuries of royalty when he started pretending to be a farm boy from Ealdor. He should crave a lush bed stuffed with feathers and lined with silk; he should miss his regular hot meals and the occasional treat his mother made; he should really miss having a warm bath and being able to soak for as long as he desired—but he didn’t. He probably wouldn’t miss being warm in the winter, either. “You’ve seen every stitch of clothing I own,” he answered.

            The Prince looked peeved, still, but he didn’t say anymore. Comfortable silence surrounded the small camp. Arthur handed his manservant half a loaf of bread and some cheese. They would need to catch some game tomorrow if they wanted to eat a proper meal, but for tonight the little food they brought would suffice. Afterward they wriggled into their sleeping rolls; each curled up on both sides of the fire and as close to it as possible without catching flame themselves.

            They had to peer through the fire to speak to one another, and it was a little bizarre. Merlin would try to follow the other in conversation, but the ever swaying flames were distracting. It looked as if Arthur’s face was coming out of the blaze.

            While the fire distracted Merlin’s view, it worried Arthur, or something did. Merlin didn’t know what was going on, exactly, but the Prince peered through the flames for a few seconds longer than necessary. His entire expression changed. At first Merlin thought Arthur was looking at him, but when the knight didn’t blink and his face dropped, as if sick, the warlock realized something was wrong.

            “Do you know any stories, Merlin?” Arthur said suddenly, still looking lost in the face of the fire.

            “Stories?” Merlin asked and reeled his head back in surprise. “What sort of stories?”

            “I don’t know!” Arthur groused and whatever spell the fire had on him was broken. He blinked and glanced away from the flames. “Any story, I don’t care. Isn’t that what county folk do, sit around after working a field and tell one another silly fables?”  

            “You want a bedtime story,” the warlock deadpanned.

            Arthur huffed then and turned around violently in his bedroll. “I’m a grown man, _Mer_ lin; I don’t need bedtime stories!”

            Merlin smiled a little evilly for a moment, relishing in the fact that he had _embarrassed_ the steadfast Prince Arthur. The satisfaction didn’t last long, though, when he quickly remembered the ghostly look on Arthur's face through the fire. Something had genuinely been bothering him, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

            What stories could Merlin tell the Prince of Camelot, though? All the fables Merlin had been raised on were about sorcery, dragons, and Emrys, ironically enough. Something told him that he couldn’t very well tell him tales from Siderian history, even if he truly wanted to educate the misinformed Prince.

            Then, quite suddenly, a thought occurred to Merlin. “Have you ever heard the one about the Once and Future King?” He asked timidly.

            At first Arthur didn’t say anything. His shoulders rolled a bit under the blanket and his legs slid together. Finally, though, he answered. “No,” he sounded curious.

            “Alright,” Merlin smiled and leaned up on an elbow, getting himself comfortable and thinking of a way to turn the prophecy his father shared with him into a story. “The Once and Future King of Albion—”

            “There’s no such thing as the King of Albion,” Arthur interjected like a brat.

            “Oi, who’s telling the story?” He threw a pine cone over the fire and it bounced off Arthur's shoulder. “Shut up and let me tell this thing.”

            “Fine, fine.” The Prince sighed, but Merlin could hear the smile in his voice.

            “The Once and Future King of Albion,” the warlock started again, “will rise when Albion needs him the most, legends say. You see, he wasn’t born the _Prince of Albion,”_ Merlin stressed with a rolls of his eyes. "But he is a brave warrior and a leader, a knight actually. He is unmatched with a sword and known all over Albion long before Albion's time of need. He’s known for being fair, and kind. He has many allies, but his greatness also attracts many enemies.”

            Arthur turned around in his bedroll and faced the sky. He was listening closely but didn’t face the fire again.

            “Evil men and women from the outskirts of Albion fear his power and popularity so they plot to turn everything he loves to ash through war and death. This is the great time of need that sparks the Once and Future King to meet his destiny. He must fight a great battle for Albion but to do this a great weapon is needed.” Merlin tried to remember what the sword looked like in his vision, the one he saw Arthur wielding in battle. “It’s broad and perfectly balanced with gold forged into the blade. It’s unyielding and sharp, keen enough to slide through any chain mail.”

            Arthur was paying close attention now.

            “The grip is sturdy, wrapped in gold and brown leather and the pommel has a regal gold knob strong enough to be used as a weapon in its own right. But,” he continues a bit cautiously, “what makes this sword truly unique is that it was forged with magic.” Merlin held his breath.

            “This Once and Future King uses magic?” Arthur asked, not sounding overly scathing but with a wrinkled nose all the same. He was relaxed and feeling too sleepy to get worked up.

            “He doesn’t have magic but he uses the sword, which is a gift from the Old Religion,” Merlin clarified. “It will be given to the Once and Future King because he is pure of heart, a good man, and can be trusted with the powerful sword. The sword will reject anyone that is not worthy, but in the hands of the Once and Future King it will give him stamina and strength. The sword won’t feel heavy in his grip, and it can defend against magical attacks.” Merlin wasn’t sure what Arthur’s dragon breath sword would be capable of, but Balinor wielded such a blade and Merlin knew what it could do.

            “What’s the swords name?” Arthur asked, sounding genuinely curious but tired. “A sword like that has to have a name,” he added with a yawn.

            The warlock was thankful Arthur was still staring up at the sky because Merlin looked as if he had just swallowed a bug. Should he use the swords real name in his tale, or should be make up another? He was already treading a fine line as it was…but Arthur liked this story. “Excalibur,” he breathed. It came out just above a whisper, but Arthur must have heard it because he smiled.

             “The Old Religion gives the Once and Future King the sword so that he may unite Albion for the Old and the New, and become the rightful ruler of the land. For his entire reign there is peace and prosperity and he’s remembered for ages to come until he is needed again.” He braved looking over at Arthur at that moment, to gauge his reaction to the story, but the Prince was already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know what you think :)


	13. The Fires Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur likes Merlin’s stories but Merlin knows something else is going on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Twelve: THE FIRES BACK HOME

Rating: Teen

Warning: Mentions of torture/death, PTSD like symptoms, a little on the lengthy side

Words: 2496

XiiX

_Somewhere in Camelot’s woods_

            The next day Merlin woke to mostly dried clothes and a knot in his back, but Arthur was happier than ever. The Prince was in such high spirits that he let Merlin hang back while he stalked the surrounding wood with his bow.

            The warlock protested, though. As much as he would like to be left out of hunting fuzzy animals, he didn’t want to leave Arthur alone in the woods, either. “What if something happens?” He tried not to look too desperate as he rung the last of the lake water out of one of his socks.

            The Prince just laughed, “I won’t be gone _that_ long!” He shook his head and hauled the snare of arrows higher on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine while I’m off. Besides, these are my father’s private woods. Nothing but forest and animals here, just don’t wonder too far away from camp.”

            Merlin reddened. Of course Arthur thought Merlin was _frightened_ to be left alone. Before he could even correct the dolt Arthur was off, heading northeast. The warlock watched him walk away until he could no longer see the tuff of yellow blond hair.

            The servant kicked around their camp for a few minutes before he began packing up their things. His fingers itched with the desire to use magic to complete the task, but he resisted. He had no idea when Arthur would return and the prat was deadly quiet when he wanted to be.

            He rolled up their bedding by hand; he stomped out the remaining embers in the fire with his boot; he heaved the saddles onto the horses despite the soreness in his back and fed them a bag of feed each. All in all everything took him just over an hour and when he was finished with it he was a bit sweaty and desperately needed to pee.

            Merlin limped over to a tree not far from their camp and first skimmed the area for blond hair and a red tunic before unbuckling his trousers. He groaned as he relieved himself and braced one forearm against the tree trunk.

            “I’ve caught you with your pants down,” Arthur said from behind and he sounded far too close to Merlin’s ear for comfort.

            The warlock yelped and straightened up awkwardly trying to stuff himself back into his trousers. “What the hell, Arthur?” His face was hot with embarrassment, both at literally being caught with his prick in his hand and having the Prince so easily sneak up on him.

            As always the knight just laughed at his manservant’s troubles. “Come on,” he said as he walked past the other man with a rabbit thrown over his shoulder. “We’ve got to get a move on if we want to make it to the next site.” When Arthur went on these little hunting exhibitions he had to stick to a schedule. This was for his safety. If they were unable to travel back to the castle by the time they were supposed to, the knights knew where to look. It also came in handy when the Prince needed to return quickly. Rather than search all of Camelot knights could just meet him at whatever camping site he was meant to be at that day.

XiiX

            Near midday they were nearly at the next site and the horses leisurely walked on. Merlin was starting to enjoy himself, now that his clothes were dry and he knew that they were going to have a decent lunch by the look of the fat rabbit Arthur had snagged that morning.

            “Where did you learn that story?” The Prince asked casually, riding alongside Merlin.

            “It’s just like you said.” The warlock smiled dumbly and shrugged, “fables and such from a small village. I don’t even remember who told me first, you know?”

            “Well, it might be common enough in Ealdor, but you shouldn’t tell people in Camelot.” He said firmly, but his eyes were soft. “I know it’s just a story but you could get in serious trouble. People might think you’re a magic sympathizer.”

            Merlin tried not to sulk. “Yea, I know. That was stupid of me.”

            “No, it’s—” Arthur stopped himself and looked away from his manservant. “I liked the story; just…don’t tell anyone else, alright?” He wasn’t angry; he was just worried for Merlin.

            The warlock brightened immediately. “Alright.” He had to pinch himself to stifle his grin.

XiiX

            That day Arthur went on to kill three pheasants and Merlin was stuffed after the rabbit lunch and the pheasant stew for dinner. He was also considerably more comfortable this night because he remembered to brush away the loose twigs and rocks to make his bedding less lumpy.

            “Don’t let it get to your big head or anything,” Merlin said as he spoke through the fire at his companion, “but I think you might have been right about this trip.” Out here Merlin was less on edge. There were no nasty knights trying to make a name for themselves by killing the Prince, no evil sorceress attacking anyone with the last name Pendragon, and no flouncy princesses with ulterior motives trying to lure Arthur away from him. No, this was nice; just the two of them alone…they were almost like friends out here.  

            Arthur looked unhappy, though. He was staring at the fire again and this time Merlin was sure he wasn’t just seeing things. It was the fire that upset him. He looked grim as the orange light cast dark shadows around his eyes, like he was haunted.

            “Arthur?” Merlin asked softly and the Prince jerked his head up. He looked like he had seen a ghost. “Are you alright?”

            The knight cleared his throat and leaned back on the bed roll, facing the sky just like the night before. “Tell me another story. I must be going mad but I think your annoying voice actually helps me sleep.” He said it lightly, like he said most things to Merlin. Sincerity wrapped up and delivered in insults.

            Merlin wanted to protest; he wanted to pry. _You can tell me, you prat. Don’t you know that by now?_ Instead, he thought up another story, loosely veiled in truth, and Arthur fell asleep.

XiiX

            Two more days went on like this. During the day Arthur would happily hunt the woods, careful to only fall small game for now. If they caught anything bigger than they could eat in one night, then they’d have to turn back early or waste the meat. Merlin would trail close behind, but just far enough away that he couldn’t be a nuisance.

            They never ran into another soul, which Merlin was grateful, and the longer they stayed tucked back in the forest the more carefree Arthur became. One morning, when Arthur thought Merlin was asleep, he heard the prince singing to himself. It was almost like Camelot exerted an oppressive force on the Prince that made him act like a total ass. Merlin thought that maybe it wasn’t Camelot, but Uther. He didn’t bring it up though, and instead enjoyed this other, more jovial, side of Arthur.

            At night, however, the Prince continued to be haunted by the fire. Any time Merlin tried to broach the subject Arthur asked for another story and turned away, looking up at the stars. Even if they spoke before or between stories he refused to look through the fire at Merlin. If he didn’t know any better the warlock would guess that Arthur was afraid of it. 

            It was their last night out and they were turning in early. Arthur wanted to get up before the sun the next day; he was determined to bring down a buck or boar on their last morning and bring it back to the Citadel as a trophy.

            Instead of looking giddy with excitement, however, Arthur was forlorn again. He glanced at the fire for a brief moment and then turned his nose up, just like the other nights. 

            Merlin knew this would be his last chance to talk to the Prince so openly. He would probably have to wait until their next outing alone, before the knight would be this relaxed with him. He took a breath, steadied his nerves, and sat up.

            “Arthur,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the crackling of the fire.

            The Prince opened his eyes but didn’t move his head toward Merlin, toward the fire. “What is it?”

            “Can I ask you something?”

            The knight sighed, sounding positively annoyed. “I have a feeling even if I said no, you would still ask.”

            Merlin smiled and took that as permission. “Are you…” he stopped. He couldn’t ask if the Prince was afraid of fire—that was a sure way to get the other man to clam up. “What happened with the fire?” He asked softly.

            Arthur frowned for several agonizing seconds and Merlin was sure he was just going to ignore the question, act like it never happened, and go to sleep. Then he sighed and rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. “You know Merlin you are the first person to notice.” Then he chuckled a little tiredly, “or maybe you’re just the first who was dumb enough to ask.”

            The servant ignored the insult. He knew Arthur had already reviled more than he could have hoped for. This was his chance. Arthur hadn’t told him to shut up, he hadn’t denied it. “You can tell me, you know. I—” he didn’t know what else to add. Of course, he knew what he felt— _I care about you. I’ll protect your secrets like they are mine own. I’d never laugh at you, not about something serious. I’m your friend you clotpole, let me in!_ —but he couldn’t say all that right then. He just had to hope Arthur knew it anyways.

            “Do you know what’s been going on at the Citadel for the past three days, and today?” Arthur asked, sounding more like his usual confident self.

            “Uh, no, not really,” the servant answered honestly. He didn’t pay attention to the time of day or the food on the end of his fork unless it had something to do with Arthurs continued existence.

            Arthur smiled, “you clueless fool. How wonderful it must be to be in your simple head.” He said it like an insult, but Merlin knew better. The Prince sometimes resented the pressure. “A trapper came to Camelot late last week, the evening right before we left, with a caravan of sorcerers,” Arthur explained. He sounded morose again, like he was in shock. “The King organized public burnings for each of them, but there were so many that they had to be carried out over a few days. Have you ever watched a burning, Merlin?”

            The warlock shook his head in denial but then realized that Arthur wouldn’t look at him over the fire and gulped, “No, I haven’t.” He did think of his cousin Jacob, who died during the Great Purge after Camelot's knights dumped scalding oil on him.

            “It’s awful,” Arthur said suddenly and honestly. It was probably the most honest thing he’d ever said. “My father made me watch them when I was younger, during the Great Purge. He wanted to toughen me up, I think.” He licked his bottom lip. “But it just scared me. I don’t even know how many people I saw go to the pyre.”

            Merlin wanted to walk around the fire and…well, he didn’t know what exactly but he felt the need to _do_ something. He wanted to rake his fingers through Arthur’s hair and hold him; he wanted to extinguish the fire and keep him warm with his magic, or his body.

            “It started to give me nightmares,” he continued but then quickly added, “as a boy. I don’t have them anymore,” he clarified and cleared his throat. “It doesn’t bother me much as an adult. It’s not like a bloody candle flame makes me frightened or anything.” This would explain why Merlin hadn’t noticed before. They had been in his chambers with a fire roaring many times and Arthur never acted like this. “Sometimes though, I see fire and that’s all I can think about. I guess it’s bothering me on this trip because I know what’s happening back home.

            “That’s understandable,” Merlin said carefully. He was treating Arthur like a wild stallion, one that could rear up and take his head off if he felt boxed in or scared. “No one in their right mind would want to watch that, especially as a child.” He didn’t even care that he was implying that Uther wasn’t in his right mind.

            “But I’ll have to do it when I’m King,” Arthur snapped. He was angry at himself for being weak, for hiding in the woods each time Uther sent someone to the pyre. Times like this he still felt like a little boy and it was shameful. “I won’t be able to go on a hunting trip like some coward every time someone needs to be executed.”

            Merlin didn’t recoil from the Princes’ outburst, though. He had asked for this, the truth, and he wasn’t going to let Arthur spoil it. “Just because you don’t like to burn people alive doesn’t mean you’re a coward, Arthur!” He huffed and got out of his bedroll.

            “What are you doing?” The knight barked and sat up.

            “Shut up,” Merlin said sternly and walked his bedroll next to Arthur. He got his things situated, all without looking at the other man, and stood up again. He retrieved a pale of water from nearby, placed out of caution in case they needed to douse the fire quickly, and dumped it over the pit. The small thing extinguished with a steaming hiss and their campsite was consumed by cool darkness.

            Arthur was glaring in his direction, though Merlin couldn’t really see him, while the warlock shuffled under the blankets. The two men were laying side by side, so close that no space was left between them from ankle to shoulder. They could stay warm like this without the fire.

            Once they had both calmed down a fraction Merlin spoke up again, “When you’re King you won’t burn people at the stake.” He said it like it was fact, as if he had been to the future and knew it. “And you’re _not_ a coward.” He added loudly. “You’re fair—when you want to be—and if someone needs to be executed you’ll do it in a humane way. No one deserves to be burned alive.”

            Arthur shuffled around, too embarrassed to say anything, not even shut up or thank you.

            Finally, with sleep tugging at his eyelids, Merlin announced, “I won’t tell anyone.”

            “Yes, well, no one would believe you even if you did. I’d tell everyone that you were sniffing Gaius’s potions and went mad.” Arthur said lightly and the air around them settled.

            Merlin smiled and relaxed against Arthur’s body, keeping them both warm in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awe finally some closeness! Let me know what you think.


	14. Morgana's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur return home and Morgana confides in Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Thirteen: MORGANA’S SECRET

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Cannon divergence episode 1:8 _The Beginning of the End_

Words: 2439

XiiX

_Somewhere in Camelot’s Woods_

            They didn’t talk about the fires the next morning when Merlin packed their things away, or after Arthur took down an impressive buck. They trotted into the Citadel with smiles, and a bit of sunburn under the eyes. Anyone who came across them could tell how happy they were, though no one was brave enough to say anything.

            Merlin walked the game to the butcher while Arthur went to his father. There were no signs in the Citadel of the horrible burnings that had taken place just yesterday, and Merlin felt a calm wash over him. He was happy.

XiiX

_Camelot proper_

            The happiness withered, however, when Merlin walked through the castle trying to find Arthur and instead ran into a crying Morgana.

            “Lady Morgana,” Merlin stopped her boldly by placing a soft hand on her arm. Despite her ferocious exterior, the lady had always been more approachable than Arthur and Merlin could be more forward with her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

            She had been marching away from Uther’s strategy room when the servant intercepted her. “Oh Merlin,” she started and wiped her eyes with her green velvet sleeve. “I’m so glad to see a friendly face.” She smiled sadly and took his hand. “Walk with me, will you? I need to talk to someone with a kind heart.”

            He nodded automatically and his scar, where the blood oath had been carved into his arm, burned. “Of course.”

            “While you were away Uther had dozens of people burned at the stake,” she said and Merlin saw a glimpse of the same horror that had been in Arthurs eyes last night. “It was terrible,” she continued as they walked down the hall toward her bedchambers. “They were guilty of nothing more than being Druids and I tried to help two of them. One man, Cerdan, and his apprentice Mordred, but the knights spotted Cerdan.”

            Merlin stopped midstride. “Did you say Mordred?”

            “Yes, he’s just a child Merlin, no older than twelve.” She cried, seemingly not noticing Merlin’s ghastly expression.

            He’s only a child? The warlock felt dizzy. Could this be the same Mordred that was destined to kill Arthur, here, in Camelot? “Is…are they dead?” He asked with a lump in his throat.

            Morgana looked like she could spit fire, though. “Uther had Cerdan burned on the pyre first; I think he did it just to spite me for asking for leniency.”

            “I’m sorry Morgana,” he said as they approached her bedchambers; even if he was relieved that Mordred was dead. “Uther’s fear of magic twisted into blind hate a long time ago.”

            “Yes,” Morgana said sharply and looked Merlin up and down as if she were deciding something. “It’s senseless, isn’t it? Killing people who haven’t hurt anyone, just because they’re born with magic?”

            Merlin blinked. He realized that in Camelot people were under the impression than no one was born with magic. One had to c _hoose_ to go to it. There were all sorts of silly rumors floating about. That one had to sacrifice a virgin to acquire powers, or sell your soul to a demon. However, Morgana was talking about it as if she understood that magic was innate. “…Yes,” he said slowly, carefully. “It’s cruel to hate someone for something that they have no control over.”

            The lady exhaled, as if thankful and Merlin felt ashamed at his own relief. How awful was it that he was happy that a child had been burned alive—

            “Merlin, I feel that I can trust you,” she said suddenly and pulled him into her bedchamber. “And I need your help.” The door shut and Merlin stumbled into Morgana’s room.

            A sickly pale boy with icy blue eyes and raven hair was standing in the center of the room cloaked in a green hood. _“Hello Emrys,”_ the child greeted.

XiiX

            Merlin could hardly believe his eyes. The boy standing before him, though much younger than he remembered seeing in his waking dream, is the same person who will kill Arthur—and he knows Merlin’s name.

            The warlock gulped and looked from Mordred to Morgana, then back to the boy. _“They do not know I am a sorcerer. Call me Merlin.”_ He ordered telepathically and tried to reign in the shocked expression on his face. 

            “Morgana, what have you done?” Merlin asked while still keeping an eye on the boy.

            The lady scoffed, “what would you have me do, Merlin? Let him die, send him to the pyre? He’s just a child!” She walked around Mordred and placed a protective hand on his shoulder. “He’s done nothing; committed no crimes, other than being a Druid and having magic.”

            Merlin could cry. Any other day he would be jumping up and down in joy for Morgana’s crusade for magic. This is what he wanted; he wanted her to accept her magical heritage and join her people—but this boy, Merlin could never stand with him.

            It didn’t matter that Mordred had not yet committed a crime. He had seen it with his own eyes. One day this boy would kill Arthur and the idea had haunted Merlin for weeks. It didn’t feel like a possibility, or up for interpretation, he had _seen_ Mordred plunge a scabbard into Arthurs belly and then tear it out. He had seen the blood gush, red and vibrate and terrible. He had seen Arthur collapse on his knees and he had seen the look of pure satisfaction on Mordred’s ugly face.

            The warlock closed his eyes and took a calming breath. “Does anyone else know he’s here?”

            Morgana relaxed a bit and dropped her offensive posture. “Just Gwen,” she said quietly.           

            “Alright, ok. Good.” Merlin nodded like a fool. He needed to keep him away from Arthur. “Has he said anything to you?” He cast a glance at the eerily quiet child.

            “No,” Morgana answered and in the same moment the child’s grim voice floated into Merlin’s head.

            _“I’ve been told not to trust anyone in Camelot, Emrys, and yet here you are.”_ The boy’s telepathic voice was just as ghoulish as his appearance.

            “But we need to get him out of Camelot,” the lady added and Merlin snapped his head up. “Before he was captured Cerdan told me there was a Druid camp headed for Sidera not far from here; they should be passing through in three days. We can take him there. Will you help me?” She lifted her chin and looked fierce, as if he she might disembowel the servant if he denied her.

            Merlin glanced down at Mordred once more and then back at Morgana. “Yes, of course I’ll help you.” He hoped his voice sounded steadier than he felt. He didn’t know if he could kill the boy, but he couldn’t let him live, either. 

XiiX

            Merlin felt like he was sick, or he was going to be sick. He wandered back to Arthur’s rooms and hoped beyond hope that the Prince would not be there. He needed to clear his head, or at least get a grip on reality. Mordred was in the castle, as a child, and asking them for help.

            Morgana was obviously loyal to the boy. She was willing to defy Uther and endanger her own life, not to mention Merlin’s, to see him released to safety. If he went against her and turned the boy in she may never forgive him…and if Morgana didn’t trust him it would be difficult for him to protect her, or reunite her with Morgause.

            If he couldn’t uphold his blood oath, Nimueh would be free to kill Arthur; and if he didn’t slay the boy _Mordred_ would grow up to kill Arthur.

            Merlin shook his head. He had to work out a way to stop Mordred without Morgana finding out. If he could do that then maybe everything else would fall into place. Nodding to himself the warlock didn’t even think to knock as he walked through Arthur’s chambers to access his own bedroom. There was a hallway entrance to his room, of course, but he was usually going through the Prince’s room anyways so it just became habit.

            “Don’t you ever knock?” Arthur growled and threw his balled-up tunic at Merlin’s head.

            The servant looked up dumbly, hardly registering the shirtless knight in front of him. “What?” He asked. The Prince was acting as if Merlin had walked in on something embarrassing.

            Arthur sighed. “I don’t know why I bother. It’s like trying to teach a dog good manners,” he scoffed and moved behind the dressing screen. “You’ve got decent timing, though.” He continued as he moved around the privacy screen, presumably removing more clothes. “I need a bath. I’ve already sent two servants down to retrieve some hot water. Go help them heave it up.”

            Merlin made a face at the screen knowing that Arthur couldn’t see him, “Yea sure, Sir Clotpole.” He grumbled and turned on a heel.

XiiX

            _“Mordred is a Druid boy?”_ Archimedes asked from a dark corner in Merlin’s bedroom. _“I can’t believe a Druid would be destined to kill the man that’s prophesied to bring magic back to Albion.”_

Merlin huffed as he lifted a massive pot of hot water onto his right shoulder. He staggered backwards for a moment, almost spilling the contents all down his back, but then righted himself. _“I’m surprised, too. I didn’t think Mordred would be a warlock. In my vision he didn’t use magic to kill Arthur.”_ He loathed stairs. Yes he did. Every. Single. Sodding. Step. In Camelot could crumble as far as Merlin was concerned. He trudged up the stairs, his back and legs protesting as hot water sloshed on his head.

            _“What are you going to do?”_ Archimedes asked hesitantly.

            _“What I have to.”_ He answered shortly, honestly. Though it wasn’t easy to think about and probably harder to execute, Merlin didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t allow Mordred to grow up to kill Arthur.

            _“Emrys!”_ The dragon scolded, totally disbelieving. _“You can’t kill a child, a magical child at that! The Druids are a dying breed; there are only five clans remaining and a child as powerful as Mordred could be essential for their continued survival.”_

            Merlin grimaced as he forced his legs to climb up the steps. He had already considered everything Archimedes was saying. He didn’t want to think of Mordred as a promising young warlock, a potential Druid leader. He needed to think of the Mordred that skewers Arthur with a smile. _“You heard my father.”_ He snapped. _“He said that if I got the chance I needed to make sure Mordred doesn’t get the opportunity to kill Arthur.”_

 _“Balinor didn’t tell you to kill a child, Merlin.”_ Archimedes huffed and the warlock could feel his anger radiating through their bond. _“It’s not right. You’ll never forgive yourself.”_

 _“I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t stop him, Art.”_ Merlin closed his eyes and breathed out of his nose; he could see the top of the stairs.

            _“I don’t understand it! You’re going to kill a child of your own kind for_ Arthur Pendragon.” Archimedes spat, sounding hateful and disappointed.

Merlin sighed out loud when he reached the top of the stairs. He was only a few feet away from Arthur’s room, now. _“What would you do if you knew a boy would grow up to kill me?”_ The warlock asked seriously, arching an eyebrow even if the dragon couldn’t see him. _“If you knew for a fact that one day this child would grow up and, when you couldn’t be there, he would run me through with a sword and watch me die and be happy about it. What would you do?”_ He walked into Arthur’s room and saw that he was already in the tub. The other servants had brought up three buckets each and the tub was already mostly full. The bucket Merlin carried was to be added later, once his bath water began to run cold again.

            “Come over here Merlin,” Arthur said without looking up. How he knew it was him Merlin would never know.

            The servant obliged just as Archimedes responded, _“That’s different! I was_ born _to protect you. From the moment Balinor hatched me it has been my duty to protect your mother, and then you.”_

 _“And it’s my destiny to protect him, Art.”_ Merlin explained softly as he sat down next to Arthur in the tub. The water was cloudy with soap and steam and Merlin really couldn’t see much underneath the water, but he could see Arthur’s strong legs poking out by the knees and how the water slapped against his thighs.

            Merlin picked up a washcloth and dipped it in the bucket he carried up, getting it wet and hot before ringing it and placing it over Arthur’s eyes. The Prince would never admit it, but he loved it when Merlin washed his hair.

            At first it had just been after training with the knights or dangerous encounter that left Arthur too sore or injured to wash himself. As the year went on, however, Arthur would have Merlin do it more and more often. The warlock thought that it was odd that Arthur didn’t have a maid like Gwen or Charlotte do it instead, but later Merlin realized that the Prince could never ask this from someone else. Though he never said so, Arthur felt more comfortable around Merlin…if he had another servant see him like this he would be vulnerable. Another servant also might think the Prince expected more than his hair washed, too.  

            The knight felt like a child when he tipped his head back, his eyes protected by the cloth, and Merlin’s slim fingers carding through his hair. Sometimes this was the best part of Arthur’s day. The warm water soaked his tense muscles and Merlin worked the knots out of his neck. The servant probably had the most intuitive fingers Arthur had ever had the pleasure of having on his skin. He chalked it up to Merlin’s physicians training with Gaius but the man always seemed to know where to apply just the right amount of pressure.

“You may not be good for much,” the Prince began. His voice was deep, as if sleepy or aroused. “But you’re good at this.”

The warlock muttered a small thank you and tucked back into Arthur's soapy hair. Merlin would never admit it, but he loved doing this.

            _“You do understand how I can do something so terrible,”_ Merlin added minutes later, knowing that Art was still upset. _“You understand better than anyone because you would do the same for me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcome :) Thanks for reading


	15. Don't Let it Ruin You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur discovers Mordred and Merlin struggles with a tough decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Fourteen: DON'T LET IT RUIN YOU

Rating: Teen

Warnings: OOC!Merlin, dark elements, impossible moral dilemma 

Words: 1680

XiiX

_Camelot_

            Despite Merlin’s best efforts to keep Mordred hidden from Arthur, the Prince worked it out on his own.

            “What were you thinking, Morgana?” Arthur howled inside her bedchamber, pointing an accusing finger at Mordred.

            The boy stood by a bed post, looking forever unmoving and calm. It made Merlin’s skin crawl. He blinked at Arthur, not appearing particularly interested in anything the knight had to say.

            Morgana marched over to the boy though, swift and fierce as her gown fluttered behind her. “Lower your voice!” She draped herself over Mordred once more, as if she was drawn to protect him. It was almost motherly. “Look at him, Arthur! He’s just a child. He’s done nothing wrong. Do you really expect me to let him die?” Her words were like steel, cutting through every defense in Arthur arsenal.

            Meanwhile Guinevere and Merlin stood by the door. Gwen listened carefully for any by passers and Merlin kept a close watch on Mordred. He knew that the boy was not destined to kill Arthur for many years yet, considering Mordred’s current age and his age when he slays Arthur, but he was still untrusting.

            “Morgana says she feels a bond with this boy,” Gwen said softly. Her ear was still pressed up against the door as she spoke. “I’m worried what will happen if the King finds out,” she looked up to Merlin with fear in her eyes.

            The warlock tightened his frown. This was not good. He looked back to the squabbling pair to see Arthur pinching the bridge of his nose and Morgana scowling.

            “It’s the law, Morgana.” He sounded tired.

            “The law is wrong!” The lady roared. She looked like she was about to fly apart at the seams. “What kind of law demands the burning of an innocent child?”

            Merlin winced as he watched the color in Arthur’s face drain. Morgana didn’t know how the pyre affected Arthur so she couldn’t know how she was twisting the knife right now. The servant had to bite his cheek to keep himself from jumping into the fight, to defend Arthur.

            The Prince sighed and relaxed his shoulders. He looked beaten. Morgana leapt for his jugular; she knew she had him. “Help me, Arthur. Just help me get him to the Druids, and they will take him away, out of Camelot.”

            Merlin watched Arthur closely, the whole room did. It was like the walls were holding their breath—

            “Yes, alright? Fine. I’ll help you but this,” he spun around suddenly and looked at the silent servants on the other side of the room, “never goes beyond us four. Understood?”

            The warlock smiled weakly. “Yes sire.”

            Gwen nodded eagerly. “Of course.”

            Morgana grinned, tears leaking out of her strong eyes. “Thank you, Arthur. Thank you.” She hugged him briefly and then flew back to Mordred. “We’ll get you out, don’t worry.”

XiiX

            The Druid clan would be passing by tomorrow night, which didn’t give the four much time to strategize. Arthur took over most of the planning and Morgana, with Mordred glued to her side, chimed in when she felt like it. Gwen had a serious expression fixed on her innocent face the entire night, though she was clearly uncomfortable. She wanted to do the right thing but she had just simply never been put in a clandestine situation such as this before. Merlin, however, was on edge. He kept casting skeptical glances at Mordred, even as he pretended to care for the child.

            _“Will you help me, Emrys? I’ve heard stories about you. You’re our champion, Emrys. Will you help me?”_ The child bombarded Merlin’s head with pleas and guilt.

            The warlock gulped. How could he answer? This child was still innocent. He didn’t deserve to die—and yet he had to die all the same.

            _“We prayed for your arrival, every night. When the trappers captured us we called for you. When they burned Cerdan he cried out your name. Why are you here, Emrys? Why aren’t you helping us?”_

Merlin couldn’t help it. His eyes immediately found Arthur. The Prince was frowning as he looked at a map of the Citadel with Morgana hanging over his shoulder. He looked tense, but determined. His brow was furrowed and his lips were pinched shut. Merlin knew that expression meant Arthur was concentrating.

            _“For the Prince?”_ Mordred added once he followed Merlin’s eyes to Arthur.

            The warlock snapped his eyes back to the boy and swallowed. Maybe he had reviled too much. _“Arthur is the Once and Future King.”_ He answered, finally. It was the first thing he had said to Mordred in hours.

            The young Druid looked unconvinced, though, as if he had lost all respect for Merlin.

            “This is our only chance.” Arthur said, finger tapping at the map. “There is a slight gap in the guard view from this point, and it only last between eleven and eleven fifteen.”

            “Fifteen minutes isn’t much time. We would have to clear the entire field in fifteen minutes.” Morgana did not sound confident.

            “There is no we, I’m going to have to do it.” Arthur said gravely with his hand cupped under his chin thoughtfully. A hard scowl was etched onto his face.

            “What, no!” Merlin shouted before he could stop himself.

            “Since you’re giving the orders now,” Arthur drawled sounding positively furious, “do you have a better idea, _Mer_ lin?”

            The warlock looked around and noticed that all eyes were on him, including Mordred. “It’s just, uhm, what if you get caught? Shouldn’t you let someone else do it?”

            “That’s exactly why it has to be me. My father won’t have me whipped or executed. If he caught you trying to release a Druid, one known to possess magic, he’d have you…” Arthur paused and looked his servant up and down. “Burned alive,” he concluded and sounded much less angry.

            Merlin deflated. Of course he would be executed in the worse possible way, and of course Arthur wouldn’t risk that on Merlin or Gwen or Morgana.

           “Besides,” he started. The Prince looked ready to scale a mountain, or tear one down. “I’m the fastest runner and whoever makes the run will have to carry the child.” He was standing tall with his back straight and a persistent glint in his eye—he would not be deterred. “None of you could do that in fifteen minutes.”

           “Just, be careful,” he settled on. What an understatement. _Be careful saving the child that will grow up to kill you._

XiiX

            The Prince and his servant walked back to their chambers in silence. Arthur was contemplating the escape plan that he would have to execute tomorrow night; while Merlin was contemplating how to safely sabotage it.

            They bumped shoulders several times and they slowly made their way through the halls and up the stairs. It was almost like both of them were wondering to their deaths.

            “You don’t think this is a good idea,” Arthur said as his bedroom door was shut.

            Merlin winced. Had he been that transparent? “No, I’m just, you know.” He answered vaguely without looking Arthur in the eyes. Instead he began working on disrobing the Prince. First with his boots, and then his tunic, but Arthur could always manage his trousers so he didn’t need help with that.

            “Merlin,” the knight grabbed his servants wrist before he could turn away to retrieve his night shirt. “What is it? Something’s on your mind.”

            It was like Arthurs touch burned his skin right through his wrist and into the bone. He wanted to twist out of his grip, but he also wanted to step closer. Merlin looked up at the Prince and hoped his guilt wasn’t etched all over his face. “Have you,” his tongue swiped over his dry lips. “Have you ever had to do something terrible for the greater good?”

            Arthur frowned like he didn’t understand. “What are you talking about? Are you in some trouble?”

            Merlin suddenly realized that he was standing so close to the Prince that he could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest, and that the strings on his trousers were unraveled, and that they were totally alone in the dead of night. The intimacy made his head swim. “I-amh,” he tried to clear his throat. “No,” he shook his head and took a steadying step back. It was easier to think with some distance from Arthur. “No, I’m not in any trouble. I’m just worried…about a friend who has to make a tough decision. He asked for advice and I didn’t know what to tell him.”

            The knight was still doubtful. He looked down at where he gripped Merlin’s wrist and tightened his hold. “Tell your friend that sometimes even good men have to do terrible things for the right reasons. It doesn’t make the act any less terrible, but it does make the man a little less good…he just has to hope that he’s strong enough to not let it ruin him.” He pulled his hand away and stepped behind the changing screen, leaving Merlin looking like he had just been punched in the gut.

XiiX

            Merlin staggered into his small, quiet antechamber with a sigh. It was pitch black in the room and he didn’t bother to light a candle before he put Arthur to bed; but there was just enough moonlight shining through his window for his eyes to adjust. He could see Archimedes poking his head up from the canopy on the bed.

            “Hey,” Merlin greeted out loud and crawled into bed. Archimedes plopped down and curled next to the warlock like a scaly cat.

            “That bad, huh?” The dragon whispered with the tip of his tail tucked under his chin. They rarely spoke out loud these days but tonight maybe they needed to hear a familiar voice.

            “Arthur has agreed to help Mordred flee,” Merlin answered quietly. “I don’t know how to stop it without hurting someone.”

            Archimedes looked at the warlock a little sadly. “You can’t protect everyone at once.”

            Merlin sighed heavily and let sleep take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for the OCC!Merlin :}


	16. Mordreds Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur helps Mordred escape and Merlin makes his choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Fifteen: MORDREDS ESCAPE

Rating: Mature

Warning: OOC!Merlin, Character Death, short chapter

Words: 1556

 

XiiX

_Camelot_

            “Good luck,” Merlin said as encouragingly as he could muster. “I’ll be waiting in your chambers, and I’ll tell anyone who comes by that you’re bathing.”

            “Good.” The Prince pulled the hood up, shadowing most of his face. He held out his arm to beckon Mordred forward, away from Morgana, and gave the lady a single, sure nod of confidence. 

            Merlin looked back at Gwen and Morgana who were holding hands and looking as fearful as the warlock felt. “He’ll be fine,” the servant said just as Arthur and Mordred left through the servant’s door.

            Of course, Merlin would not be hiding in Arthur’s rooms while the Prince led his future killer to safety. Instead, he waited several minutes before leaving Morgana’s rooms and then rushed to the Citadel.

            Uther was still searching the Citadel and the lower towns for the escaped Druid child so there were more patrols on foot than usual. It made him hyper vigilant and he used more magic than he had in weeks. It felt good to stretch his magical muscles, so to speak, but the good feeling didn’t last. Once he crept into the waiting spot, the slim corridor where Arthur and Mordred would crouch in while they waited for the perfect window of opportunity—Merlin’s sense of goodness withered. He drifted into the corner of the corridor, into the shadows, and waited. 

            He could feel his soul dissolving as the minutes passed. He had accepted what he had to do, but it still pained him. Merlin looked up at the dreary stone ceiling of the corridor and thought of his life before Camelot. It was a _good_ life. His parents loved him; his sisters were annoying but endearing; his cousins were kind; Freya at least treated him like he wouldn’t break; he and Art could fly for hours every day if he wanted…he had never missed those simple days so much.

            He heard someone approaching then and realized it must be Arthur and Mordred. Merlin assumed that the Druid would be able to sense him, but he needed to surprise the Prince, not Mordred.

            Sure enough Arthur came around the corner with Mordred on his heels. “You see that threshold along the walls?” Arthur pointed to the opening along the wall. “That’s where we’re headed. Beyond that is the lower town.” Arthur explained patiently to the child and Merlin’s heart broke a little. He was being so kind. “In about four minutes I’m going to have to run very fast to get you to the other side of that wall. You must stay very quiet,” he smiled then. Merlin could just barely see it creep out of the cover from the hood. “But that shouldn’t be a problem, seeing as you’ve not yet said a word.” He sighed then and crouched down next to the child with his back to Merlin.

            The warlock’s heart was sweating. He didn’t know if he could do this. He pinched his eyes shut and tried to ground himself.

            _“What are you doing here?”_ Mordred’s eerie voice rung out in his head like a shrill bell.

            Merlin remembered the vision. Mordred shoves a sword into Arthurs belly; he rips it out. Merlin can hear the noise the blade makes, slicing his flesh and chainmail. It’s awful. When Merlin opens his eyes again they’re painted gold, and his heart has turned to steel.

            With a wave of his hand Arthur falls unconscious and slumps into a corner, concealed by darkness.

            Mordred whipped his head up then, glaring at Merlin with sharp eyes. _“Emrys what are you doing?”_

            But Merlin can’t bear to answer him. It’s taking all his will power just to look the child in the eyes. “Run,” he finally says. His voice is hard. “Do it now; run to the threshold and do it quickly.”

            Mordred looked down to Arthur briefly but then Merlin took a threatening step forward and the child is spurred into action. He flees in the direction of the threshold, toward the castle walls, but the timing is off and his short legs can’t carry him fast enough.

            From there it’s almost too simple. A guard shouts, “sorcerer!” They know what he looks like from his original capture days ago. The alarm bell blares through the silence. “Sorcerer fleeing on the north wall!” Merlin watches as seven arrows rain down from the scouting walls, four of which strike the running boy. He never even made it into the center of the Citadel.

            Merlin watches the arrows tear through the child’s chest and legs. The arrows are just as long as Mordred is tall and the spear ends are nasty and barbed. He didn’t stand a chance. The boy collapses like a crippled horse and a bit of dust curls around his body. Merlin is pretty sure Mordred is dead before he hits the ground, for which he is thankful, and there is so little blood because his heart stopped pumping the moment the arrow tore through it.

            The warlock looked away once the first guard reached Mordred’s dead body. He had to get back to business, after all. No time to feel sorry for his dirty deeds.

            He grabbed Arthurs arm and slung it over his shoulders, using a gentle spell to make the knight feel lite in his arms. He pulled Arthurs cloak off and walked him back to Gaius as quickly as possible, telling any passerby’s that the Prince had just had too much to drink.

XiiX

            When Merlin stumbled into Gaius’s room, toting the Prince against his side, the physician gave him a sour look.

            “Merlin, what happened?” The old man asked and moved to help maneuver Arthur. “I heard the alarm, there’s a sorcerer within the Citadel…I was worried.”

            “We’re fine,” Merlin says evenly. He feels like he’s not really there or that he can’t focus on anything. “I used a sleeping spell on him. I’ll wake him up in a second,” he explained without looking the older man in the eye.

            Gaius just frowns though, and watches Merlin gently set the Prince down on the examination table.

            Merlin doesn’t volunteer any more information and instead sits down beside Arthur. He looks drained and crestfallen as he zones out, not staring at anything in particular. He rests his elbows on his knees and folds his hands under his chin. His eyes are swollen, like he had been crying, or he wanted to.

           “What did you do?” The physician finally asks and sits next to Merlin.

           “The child who escaped from the trappers last week, the one that Uther has been looking for,” he said in a dead voice. “Morgana was hiding him and Arthur agreed to help him flee.” He gulped then, his throat felt raw as if he had been screaming for days. “He’s the same person who kills Arthur, the one that I saw in my vision at the lake.” He finally looked up at the physician, dread and sadness all over his expression. His mouth turned downward in a tight frown as if he were trying to keep his lips together.

           “Oh, Merlin.” Gaius frowned sadly. “You didn’t.”

           The warlock turned his face and a terrible sob ripped out of his throat. “I’m sorry, Gaius.” Hot tears are spilling from his eyes and agony is screwing up his usually happy face. “I didn’t know what else to do.” His hands gripped into tight fists over his thighs as he tried to get a handle on himself, but it was impossible. A damn of anguish was spilling out and he couldn’t stop it. “I just kept thinking—what if I don’t do anything,” his voice was wrecked. “And one day Arthur dies. It would be my fault, for not,” he has to take a steadying breath through the sobs, “not stopping it when I could.” He’s entire body is shaking and Merlin feels like he might vomit. “I sent a child to his death, Gaius and I, I don’t even regret it!”

            Gaius goes to him then and does the only thing he can; he gives Merlin a hug. “I’m sorry, Merlin, I’m so, so sorry you had to make that decision.” Gaius didn’t tell Merlin that _it was ok,_ or that he _did the right thing;_ he didn’t even try to say that everything would be alright and the warlock was thankful for that. He didn’t want to hear lies to make himself feel better…he needed the guilt to rot inside of him, and he needed to be held if just for a second.

            When Merlin finally pulled himself back together he felt empty, but at least he could look at Arthur’s sleeping form without breaking down. “I need to wake him up,” the warlock sighed and wiped the tears from his eyes. “I’m sure Morgana and Gwen are worried sick by now.”

            “What will you tell him?” Gaius asked tentatively.

            After a moment of thought he said, “I’ll tell Arthur that Mordred must have saved him. That, when the guards saw them, Mordred must have put him under a sleeping spell and hid him in the corner, where I found him, to save him from being caught.” He sighed heavily, full of angst. At least this way Mordred’s memory wouldn’t be tarnished. Arthur could go on thinking that the person who would have one day killed him actually saved him tonight.

_iii_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K, I anticipate some readers might not appreciate that Merlin led Mordred to his death BUT I have cut out Merlin releasing Kilgharrah on Camelot, which resulted in many more deaths. Also, Merlin did try to trip Mordred once (which would have resulted in his capture and death) so, I really don’t feel like this is SO out of character. Merlin kills people in the show all the time, yo. He’s a thug. The BBC is just really inconsistent with when he’s a badass; not this Merlin. He’s committed to the cause. Anyways, I hope that makes sense.


	17. Kin and Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin, Arthur, and Morgana heal in the aftermath of Mordred’s death. Merlin opens up to Morgana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Sixteen: KIN AND MAGIC

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 2143

XiiX

_Camelot_

           For days after Mordred’s death Arthur and Morgana were listless ghosts, hovering around the castle without any of their usual fire. They didn’t even squabble with one another or Uther when he demanded to talk to both of them. It was obvious that _someone_ had been hiding the Druid boy within the castle or maybe the Citadel and the King found it hard to believe that no one knew anything about it.

            But both of them stayed tight-lipped. They didn’t even look at each other.

            It broke Merlin’s heart to see Arthur so crestfallen, and to know that he had caused it. He had a hard time looking the Prince in the eye and he hated himself for it. Arthur needed him now, maybe more than ever. It was obvious that the knight blamed himself for Mordred’s death—and Merlin had no idea to make that right.

            One day he would tell him, Merlin decided, as he dressed Arthur for practice. _‘I’ll tell you everything, I promise.’_ He thought as he pulled the strap on his armor and gave him a firm pat on the back. “All set for practice, sire.”

            “Very good,” the Prince said tightly. “Afterwards I’ll want a bath, and then an early dinner.” He added without looking at Merlin and walked out to meet the other knights.

XiiX

            When Arthur walked out the warlock released a heavy sigh and leaned against a wall. He wasn’t faring much better than the Prince or Morgana. He felt like his grief would swallow him whole. It didn’t help that Archimedes would hardly talk to him unless he had to. The dragon made his opinion on the matter absolutely clear and wasn’t about to let Merlin forget it. If that wasn’t enough the warlocks blood oath was irritating his arm nonstop.

            His scarred arm had been burning since Mordred arrived. Merlin was sure it meant that Morgana was getting stronger. She felt connected to the boy, connected to him through magic, and Merlin had him killed. If she ever found out she would hate him; he was sure of it.  

            He needed to speak to her, and quickly, before everything spun out of control and Nimueh was free to attack Arthur again. Merlin shook his head and tried to steady himself. He just needed to forge a bond with her, to show her that he could be trusted. That shouldn’t be too hard, she already trusted him enough with _some_ of her secrets. He just needed her to trust him with the most important one. If Morgana let him in now he could prepare her for meeting Morgause. More importantly, he needed to get through to her _before_ Morgause and Nimueh swooped in with their dark robes and nefarious ways. 

XiiX

             With his head swimming Merlin knocked on Morgana’s door. From the armory to her room he had not made up his mind—what exactly should he say to her? You’ve got magic, so do I! You can trust me. We’re actually cousins, surprise! Don’t we look a bit alike? Oh and I know your mother and sister…yea they’re still alive, despite what Uther told you about them being killed by sorcerers.  

            “Coming,” a lite and kind voice answered and a second later Morgana was pulling back the door. “Merlin,” she said with a sad smile. Seeing Merlin reminded her of Mordred. “Did Arthur send you?”

            The servant smiled with his hands behind his back and hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. His arm stung again, as if to give him a push. “No, actually, I’ve got a few hours to myself while Arthur is training.” He explained and rolled his eyes, as if to tell Morgana exactly how he felt about the Princes’ training. 

            “Oh? What brought you here, then?” She inquired and dropped her arm from the door. It seemed she might let him in her room.

            “I need to talk to you about something; it’s a bit important, a uh,” he paused and was sure he must look like a scared rabbit. “personal matter? Do you have a moment?”

            She turned her head to the side and smiled a little curiously. “Gwen just went to get my lunch. We should have a few minutes alone, come.”

            “Thanks,” he said and walked into the lady’s room. It was just as big as Arthurs but a bit warmer; it had more character. There was a large vanity table with an obnoxious brass mirror, two cushioned chairs in front of the hearth, pillows along wide windowsill, a sturdy and well-stocked bookshelf and the room smelled of cinnamon.

            “Please, sit.” She said and motioned toward a circular table with four chairs, much smaller than the large rectangular six seat-table in the Prince’s chambers.

            Again he thanked her before sitting and cleared his throat. He pinched his arm to steady himself, opened his mouth to say what, he didn’t know—but Morgana beat him to it.

            “You know if I didn’t know any better I would think you were here to confess your love for me.” She said in her sugary voice and took of sip from her goblet, eye brows rising as the cup covered her mouth.

            “What?” Merlin croaked and twisted awkwardly in his seat. “I, no—I mean, not that you’re _not_ b-but—” He sputtered, red-faced and flustered until finally the lady had some mercy.

            “Then what is this about?” She asked with a laugh, but a serious smile traced her lips. She moved the goblet away from her face, letting it rest loosely in her hand off to the side.          

            It was do or die. “I know that some of your dreams come true.” He blurted out and Morgana dropped the goblet.

             Red wine sloshed over the stone floors and splashed up her gown and Merlin’s leg. She tried to push away from the table, tried to get away from this treasonous conversation. Morgana was terrified.

            “No, shh, it’s ok. Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to tell anyone!” He said quietly but firmly and took her wrist before she could move away.

            Morgana halted but the fear was still plain on her face.  “You won’t tell anyone?”

            Merlin smiled warmly. “No, I won’t. I promise you, I won’t say a word and if anything ever happens I’ll protect you.” He gripped her hand more firmly now. “Please, don’t be afraid. I want to help.”

            She glanced down at their hands, and then back up to the servants’ eyes. “Do you know what’s happening to me?” The lady dropped back into the seat without her usual grace. “I swear I didn’t try to learn it.” She couldn’t bring herself to even say the word _magic._ “The dreams, they just happen,” she explained herself. She probably rehearsed this defense a hundred times in case Uther ever found out.

            The warlock winced. Now things were going to get tricky. How much should he tell her? “People are born with magic,” he explained cautiously. “They either have it, or they don’t. They can learn to control it but not to manifest it…I feel like you already knew that, though.” He gave her another gentle smile and squeezed her hand encouragingly. “Most inherit it from their parents…do you know if either of your parents had magic?”

            Morgana shook her head and looked like she might cry. Her eyes watered drastically and it made him want to take her somewhere safe, to Sidera. “No, I don’t know. I barely remember my parents, or my sister. Uther told me my mother and sister were killed by sorcerers during the Great Purge and my father died in battle.”

            _‘I bet he did’_ , Merlin thought angrily. “I’m sorry. Well, there is a chance that someone in your family might have had magic, too. You’re a natural seer, that’s why you have visions in your dreams.”

            Morgana crinkled her forehead as if she just realized what this foolish servant was talking about. “How do you know all this?” Her voice came out like a whisper.

            “I’m from Sidera, actually”. He wondered how many half-truths he’s told in his life and held his breath.

            The lady’s eyes widened but she didn’t appear anymore frightened. “Does that mean you have magic?” She looked at him a bit suspiciously.

            Merlin rubbed his neck a little sheepishly and adopted an old lie. “No, afraid not. My father has magic, but my mother doesn’t and I seem to have taken after her.”

            “Is that why you came to Camelot, because the magical citizens of Sidera were cruel to you? Do they treat nonmagical persons like we treat people like me?” She leaned forward, genuinely curious.

            “No, absolutely not!” Merlin answered quickly. “I was treated very nicely in Sidera…actually I was sort of shielded from everything. That’s why I left, I wanted to do my own thing, start over.” So many half-truths. “The point is, you’re not alone. You don’t have to be afraid. Your dreams might scare you and if you want you can use a sleeping draught. That might help lessen them, but you aren’t going mad and magic isn’t inherently evil.”

            Morgana softened at that. Maybe that’s all she really needed to hear—you aren’t crazy, you’re not evil. She leapt from her seat and almost fell into Merlin’s lap to give him a hug around the neck. “Oh, Merlin, thank you. You don’t understand how much it means to me to have a friend that I can trust with this.”

            Merlin was bit startled but hugged Morgana back, the soft curls of her hair were like satin under his fingertips. He wanted to correct her, to tell her that she already had a friend she could trust, when a gentle rapt came from the hall.

            “Lady Morgana,” Gwen said happily and pushed the door open like a proper servant. Really, she put Merlin to shame. “Your lunch,” she announced.

            Unfortunately Merlin was not fast or smooth enough to think to separate them, and Morgana didn’t seem concerned enough to move. The sight Gwen walked in on probably could have got Merlin beheaded if it had been anyone else.

            “Oh,” Gwen gasped and then slit her eyes as if she couldn’t believe what she saw. “ _Oh_ , excuse me,” she turned around and faced the wall, blushing furiously.

            Merlin’s ears were also a little hot, but Morgana was unfazed. “Oh, Gwen, you’re too innocent for your own good. It was just a hug between friends, isn’t that right, Merlin?” She easily separated herself from Merlin and got up to meet her handmaid.

            “Yep,” the warlock squeaked and stood up. He felt incredibly uncomfortable. “I’m going to be leaving now,” he said and bolted for the door. Merlin didn’t give either of the women a glance.

XiiX

            That night Merlin was in higher spirits and it was getting on Arthurs nerves.

            “Are you _humming,_ Merlin?” The Prince asked incredulously as he stepped out from behind the changing screen. He was now wearing his sleep shirt and mostly ready for bed.

            “Hm?” Merlin looked up from his task. He was stoking the fire, as it was already late autumn and getting chillier each night. Winter would be on them any day now. “Is my happiness that tiresome?” He asked with a smirk.

            “Yes, actually, since you asked.” Arthur huffed and marched over to his bed. “You sound like a girl when you do that. I thought I had Guinevere in here for a moment.”

            “More like hoped.” The warlock muttered under his breath.

            “What was that?” Arthur stopped pulling back his bedding and glared at the other man.

            “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Merlin said lightly, trying to laugh, but he walked around to the other side of the room all the same. He was careful not to turn his back on the Prince for fear of being attacked.

            The knight looked deadly, though. “No, Mer _lin_ , I don’t think I know what you’re talking about. Could you enlighten me?”

            “Oh, don’t be such a prat, Arthur.” The servant whined and started looking for any heavy, loose objects near the Prince that he might throw Merlin’s way. “You can admit it; you’ve got eyes for Gwen.”

            If Merlin squinted he was sure he could see steam rising from Arthurs ears. “I’ve just remembered, I’m going on a hunting party tomorrow and I need you to prepare our things right now.”

            “Arthur!” Merlin cried and fought the urge to stamp his foot. That _would_ be a bit girly. “Right now? I was just about to go to bed!”

            “Well, if you’ve got enough energy to remark on my personal matters you must have enough energy to pack.” He said stubbornly and jumped in bed. “Goodbye, Merlin!” 

            “Dollophead!” Merlin hissed and spun around on his foot heading for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatcha think so far? Thank for reading!


	18. Fragile Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin finally admits to himself that he feels more for Arthur than friendship; meanwhile Arthur is drawn to Gwen and Gwen is pulled between the prince and Lancelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Seventeen: FRAGILE HEARTS

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cannon Divergence episode 2:4 _Lancelot and Guinevere_ , mild language

Words: 2506

XiiX

 _Camelot_          

             Merlin thought, after a year of living in Camelot and a year of trailing after a haphazard Prince destined for greatness, that nothing could surprise him. After all, with Merlin’s current lifestyle, surprises could get him killed. He tried very hard to be on his toes at all times.

             He wasn’t surprised when Arthur managed to slay a blasted unicorn, never mind the creatures were exceedingly rare, but he _was_ surprised when Arthur drank the poison from the chalice in his place. Merlin wasn’t surprised when Uther had Tom executed but he _was_ surprised when Morgana plotted to kill Uther with a rouge sorcerer. Merlin wasn’t surprised at all when Arthur was a total prat when Cedric came and tried to take his place as manservant. He wasn’t even really that surprised when Cedric became possessed by Cornelius Sigan. Merlin was _shocked_ , however, when a week later Arthur gave him a fur coat to keep him warm during the winter. Arthur never really came out and _said_ he was sorry for replacing him with Cedric, but the coat laid out on Merlin’s bed was mighty apologetic.           

              Equally unsurprised was Merlin when Arthur felt the need to prove his jousting prowess during the tournament. At first the warlock thought it was cute that Arthur didn’t seem to notice how everyone treated the _Prince_ more delicately than the other competitors. Merlin had always been painfully aware that his few friends in Sidera treated him like withered paper likely to crackle at any given moment. No one let him forget that he was the fragile and precious heir. It blew Merlin’s mind to think that it had taken Arthur twenty-one years to notice that he was being treated differently. Egotistical prat.

              He happily helped Arthur with his elaborate scheme to enlist in the tournament under a false identity. He and Gwen got a kick out of knocking the clotpole down a few pegs. Merlin wasn’t even surprised when an assassin had emerged to kill Arthur—again, it was just another day in the life. He was surprised when Arthur kissed Gwen, though.

             Arthur was preparing to leave Gwen’s house and, with an assassin on the loose, Merlin had to stand watch outside her house. It couldn’t be helped—his peeping. He needed to know Arthur was safe. At his core Merlin knew what was happening before it occurred. He had seen the stars lining up for days. He had even called Arthur out on it himself. So, maybe Merlin wasn’t so surprised that the Prince wanted to kiss a servant—a pretty, soft spoken hand _maid—_ but he was stunned when it _hurt_ to watch Arthur kiss someone that wasn’t him.

            And that was it, wasn’t it? He shook his head and tried to tell himself that he was confused. Merlin must be jealous of _Arthur,_ not Gwen. He was being ridiculous, the warlock told himself as Arthur pulled away from the girl and smiled. He never smiled like that for Merlin. No matter how earnestly he insisted Merlin couldn’t get his throat to relax, or his heart to stop swelling in his chest. He was very surprised when he realized he felt more for Arthur than duty, more than friendship.

XiiX

_Camelot, near Mercian Boarder, outside Hengist castle_

            Since Morgana was found wandering the forest wearing nothing but a slip and crying about bandits kidnapping Gwen, Arthur had been in a frenzy. The Prince marched through the forest with Merlin on his heels. The whole time the servant grumbled about how hopeless Arthur was, how it was obvious that Gwen and Arthur loved one another.

            At first Arthur denied it—out loud—but quietly he hoped. He hoped and he thought about how he had never told Gwen how he felt. She was alone, being held captive by barbarians and he had never even told her that he cared. He had thought about it more and more as they ventured closer—once they had reached safety he would pull her in close by the hips. He would crush their bodies together. He would dip her back and kiss her passionately and she would know how he felt about her.

            He rehearsed this in his head a dozen times, as he trudged through that awful forest and smeared foul smelling berries over his face. The battle was messy, like fighting bandits usually is, but in the end all Arthur was thinking about was telling Gwen how he felt. Finally, after the battle and the escape, Arthur felt his chest fill with warmth as he pulled Guinevere from the tunnels. She was alive. She was unharmed. She could be his.

            But then he saw Lancelot and his heart fell. It was written all over the man’s face—he openly adored Gwen and awestruck devotion on her face was not for Arthur. They held hands. Arthur had never felt so stupid.

            He tried his best to hide his disappointment. He tightened his shoulders and hardened his face. It was second nature to him to close himself off. He had felt inadequate before and it was better to turn to steel than let anyone see him crushed.

            Gwen noticed it right away, though. Her happy smile fluttered from Lancelot to Arthur and her face turned to ash. She looked as if she had been caught with her lover in one hand and her betrothed in the other. Lance quickly picked up on her sheepish behavior and stepped back, looking at Arthur with open confusion.

            The Prince momentarily wondered how Lance could walk around with his heart on his sleeve like that. The man couldn’t hide anything. But, neither could Gwen.

             Instead of facing the reality of the situation Arthur lashed out at Merlin and walked ahead. He had gotten his hopes so high just to see them smothered right before his eyes with once glance from Guinevere to Lancelot.

            “I only came because Morgana wouldn’t stop crying about it,” Arthur answered without looking at anyone when Gwen thanked him for the rescue. “I would have been here much sooner if I had a more competent servant.” He added and gave Merlin the dirtiest look he could muster. “You really aren’t good for anything.” His voice was not playful.

            Merlin ducked his head and stepped back with Lance. Arthur felt totally alone.

XiiX

             The quartet marched for a few miles, silently putting distance between Gwen’s abductors while bringing them closer to Camelot. Arthur said little unless it was to berate Merlin, who took his lashings dutifully. For some reason Merlin appeared just as upset as Arthur and that just angered the Prince further.

             Gwen and Lance followed closely behind until Arthur finally decided on a place to rest for the night. “We’ll be back in Camelot by midday tomorrow.” He said as he lay down on the ground and gave Lance a tired gaze. By the Kings order Lancelot was still not welcome in Camelot.

             Gwen glanced back at Lance as well; he was standing next to Merlin. “Will I see you in the morning?” She asked gently, as if she could make her voice low enough so that Arthur would not hear her. He did. It couldn’t be helped.

             Lancelot reached down and squeezed her hand while holding her gaze. “I’ll stand watch tonight.” He walked a few paces away from their humble camp. Merlin followed.

             “Tell me,” Lance said as soon as the warlock was at his side again. “Does Arthur have feelings for Guinevere?” He held Merlin’s eyes as he asked, just as he had spoken to Gwen seconds before. It was impossible to be dishonest to a man like Lance.

             “Yes,” Merlin breathed out and again he was reminded of his own feelings. It was like being punched in the gut. “He cares for her very much.” He tried not to look away, not to give _himself_ away, but something told him that Lance understood immediately.

             “And Gwen? Do you know her feelings?” The would-be knight asked without a trace of bitterness.

             “She feels for him as well. I’ve seen it; they…I’m sorry Lance.” Merlin finished lamely and looked down at his boots. He wanted to dissolve. “I believe Gwen cares for you, too, though. I don’t know who she wants more, or if she even knows.”

             “I won’t stand between them, then.” Lancelot said firmly and straightened his back.

             “Where will you go?” Merlin asked suddenly. As small part of him wished that Lancelot would stay and win Guinevere’s heart; then he could have all of Arthur again.

             “I don’t know, north I suppose. Will you come with me?” Lance asked carefully and gave Merlin a sad smile.

 _‘Ah, so he did understand_ ,’ Merlin decided. “No, I…my home is Camelot, now.”

             “Even if there is no place for you?”

             Merlin shot his head up at once. Agony was ripping though his chest again. He hadn’t heard the words spoken out loud yet and it hurt. Gods, did it hurt. “Yes,” he answered honestly. “Even if I have to sit outside and only look in, I will always return.” They both knew they were not talking about Camelot anymore.

            “You are a better man than I, Merlin. I do not know that I could stay and not…complicate things.” Lance confessed softly.

            A beat of silence consumed the quiet forest and stretched across the night. Merlin looked up to the sky and admired the stars while Lancelot thumbed the sword on his hip.

           “You should get some rest,” Lance said after several minutes had passed.

           “You’re not going to be here when we wake, will you?” Merlin sighed and put his hands on his hips. He didn’t feel like joining Arthur right now. His heart was too full of sadness.

           “It would be best for all of us if I went on my way before anyone woke to see me off. Arthur is already risking enough to help me now.” Lance answered diplomatically. He was always so fair, so level-headed. “Tell Gwen that I’m sorry, and that she has changed me. She has made me wish to be a better man.”

           The warlock smiled. “I will.”

          “Thank you. You are a good friend, Merlin.” If anyone else had said it the servant would have thought they were only pitying him but from Lancelot Merlin knew it to be true.

          Suddenly, an idea occurred to Merlin. “You said you would travel north?” The warlock asked excitedly and stepped closer to the other man.

“Yes, I have nowhere else to go.” The would-be knight answered with a shrug. “North is safer than south, at any rate, but I haven’t got a destination in mind.”

“Go to Sidera,” Merlin whispered only inches from Lancelot’s face. “I know that you want nothing more than to be a knight in Camelot.” The servant at least knew that Lance wasn’t afraid of magic or dragons, for that matter, after the run-in with the griffin. Maybe he could make a life in Sidera. “But for now, I think you could find purpose as a Siderian rider.”

“I don’t know…” Lance had his heart set on becoming a knight for so long. The ideals were something he could aspire to, and the knights of Camelot were the finest fighters in all of Albion. He had never wanted to settle for less.

“Please, go to Dragons Keep and ask for an audience with the Dragonlord. Give them my name and ask to join the riders. They aren’t known for their legendary fighting like the knights in Camelot, but they are noble. My cousin was a rider and he traveled Albion rescuing refugees. Please, it’s a better life than roaming around by yourself and getting mixed up with the likes of Hengist and kidnapping the Kings ward.”

            A wince of shame briefly flew across Lancelot’s face. It was true that he never wanted to resort to selling his sword to dishonorable men again, in fact he had sworn to Gwen to never do that again. “Your cousin is Siderian?” Lance asked with a confused expression and the warlock realized that he had reviled more than he intended to. When he and Archimedes saved Lance from the griffin they hadn’t offered the would-be knight any explanations. It was obvious Merlin had magic, but he didn’t elaborate on anything other than his desire to protect Arthur and Camelot. “And why would the Dragonlord know your name?”

            “I, uhm,” he swallowed and glanced back at the camp to make sure Gwen and Arthur were both still sleeping. Like it would matter now, he was already committing treason by telling Lance to flee to Camelot’s biggest enemy. If Arthur was awake he would know it by now. Still, Merlin took a few cautious steps farther away from the other two and looked up at a wild-eyed Lance. “Yes, I’m…uh, I’m actually from Sidera and oh shit.” He cursed and rubbed the back of his neck. “The Dragonlord is my father.”

            Lancelot just blinked at Merlin, looking at him up and down for a second as if he were trying to decide if the scraggly servant could really be royalty. “You’re serious?”

            “Yes, look, it’s a long story but I told you the truth before. I’m in Camelot to serve and protect Arthur; it’s my destiny. My family knows that I’m here, but the rest of Albion doesn’t. Obviously.” He ground his palm into his eye as if he was tired, but really it was the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve had to hide my whole life so that no one knew who I was so that I could serve my purpose, that’s why no one knows what the Siderian Prince looks like.” He deflated and looked at Lance hopefully. “Do you believe me?”

            “Yes,” the other man said immediately. “I do.”

            A wide grin broke out on Merlin’s face and it was the first good feeling he had all day. “And will you go to Sidera? You could really make a difference there, save a lot of people.”

            Lance frowned. “I wouldn’t want to fight against Camelot.”

            “Me neither,” Merlin sighed truthfully. “It scares me every night to think that Sidera and Camelot might go to war but,” he dared to smile hopefully, “If I do my part right it won’t come to that.”

            “Then I’ll go to Sidera,” Lancelot clasped his hand over Merlin’s shoulder in a show of manly affection but Merlin swung forward and hugged him instead. 

            “I’m glad.”

            “Thank you, Merlin.” Lancelot said as they separated. “Go and rest. You’ll need your strength if you’re to travel tomorrow with Arthur.” He smiled a little playfully. “And don’t forget to tell Gwen my message.”

            “I won’t,” the warlock said around a yawn. “I promise. Safe travels, I’ll see you again.” Merlin backed away a few steps before he turned around and joined Arthur and Gwen by the fire. Both were still sound asleep. The servant cradled his hands under his head and tried to get comfortable in the dirt. He could see Lancelot’s silhouette standing guard and he knew he would be gone in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gimme your thoughts! Thank you for reading.


	19. In Our Cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur spends a night drinking after realizing he didn’t have all of Gwen’s love. Merlin tries to comfort him while licking his own wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Eighteen: IN OUR CUPS

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Drunkenness, drunken conversations, drunk!Arthur, pinning Merlin

Words: 2198

XiiX

_Camelot_

            When they returned to Camelot Merlin kept his head down and Arthur tried not to pout as Morgana and Guinevere embraced in the courtyard. Uther glared at his son for disobeying him but said nothing. Perhaps the glee in Morgana made the King think that the defiance was worth it in the end.

            “Thank you Arthur,” Morgana said with a genuine smile brightening her face. It was the first sign of warmth in her in weeks. “And you, Merlin.” She took the servants hands and gave them a firm squeeze.

            “It was the right thing to do, nothing more.” The Prince said tightly and gripped Merlin’s shoulder to haul him away from the reunited girls. “Come, Mer _lin_ I’m in need of a drink.”

            The servant gave an apologetic smile and shrug to Morgana and Gwen before he was pulled away.

XiiX

            And drink they did. Arthur pulled Leon, Boeder, Jasper and, of course, Merlin into the tavern. The Prince did not frequent the lower towns often. It was unbecoming of royalty to sit with commoners, he was told. Sometimes, though, he needed a drink with his knights. After a particularly trying training session, or when one of them received a wound or died, or even when one of them was a little heart-broken—propriety was put on hold.

            No one came out and said it but everyone knew that Arthur was smitten for the cute handmaid in Lady Morgana’s shadow. Yes, that one, with the curly hair and precious smile. So, even if no one talked about it, the knights knew what was going on when Arthur came back from her rescue and looked like he had lost Gwen for good rather than receiving a kiss for his troubles. They were there to brighten his mood. Merlin was there to make sure none of them made a scene.

            The servant didn’t drink and he didn’t try to join in with thinly veiled pity party, either. He had his own wounds to lick, after all. Lancelot’s words still stung— _even if there is no place for you?_ He glanced at Arthur. He was red-faced and smiling dopily. Leon was good at cheering up the younger knight, better than Merlin was at the moment. It hurt to know that he would never have a real place beside Arthur.

            One day this sham would crumble. Merlin didn’t know when, but one day it would have to stop. He couldn’t stay in Camelot pretending to be someone he’s not for the rest of his life. Eventually he would have to return to Sidera. Eventually Arthur would know that he had been lying to him, about so many things, for so long and Arthur would never forgive him for that.

            His pain surrounded him in that moment and he was thankful everyone was paying such close attention to the Prince. No one would notice his heart ache. He would never have a place with Arthur, not really. Not as his friend or confidant or…well, nothing more.

            “And that’s tha’ real danger with sorcerers!” Jasper hiccupped and put his cup down on the table sloppily. Frothy ale spilled out and soaked his sleeve. He was a knight about the same age as Leon, though without half as much tact. “How would ya ever know if one of em’ was ‘eally good? Could’ve just bewitched you into thinkin’ that you like em.”

            Sir Boeder shook his head. He was older than Leon and was handling his drinks better than anyone else at the table. Merlin never did understand why it was Leon who was First Knight and not someone older and more distinguished such as Sir Boeder. The servant just assumed it was some chivalry small-print rule that was beyond him and let it pass. “Are you saying you’re afraid of a witch casting a love spell on you?” The older man laughed as if he couldn’t believe the pluck from Jasper. 

            “No, no, no,” Arthur jumped in and now Merlin was holding his breath. “Jaspers got a point. How would you ever know if, say you met a nice sorcerer,” he wrinkled his nose as if the idea was absurd. “How would you know that you _actually_ like them? Or if they were just…” he threw his arm out in a demonstrative way “spell casting?” 

            “You boys,” Boeder laughed into his cup and then looked up to Arthur. “No offence, your Highness.”

            But Arthur just swatted at the air good naturedly. He was drunk.

            “Have any of you been in love?” Boeder asked with a cheeky grin and looked around the table. Before anyone could answer he continued on, “if you have then you know that it feels unlike anything else and I’d wager no magic can duplicate it, not really.”

            “Are you not afraid of magic, Sir Boeder?” Leon asked and perked up. Maybe that’s why he is First Knight, Merlin thought. He was so leveled headed. He would use any opportunity to learn something new, even cup in hand.

            “Of course I’m afraid of magic!” The older knight hollered and the men all laughed merrily as if this were the funniest thing in the world and Merlin wanted to hide his head in the dirt. “I’m just a bit more afraid of love. That’s real power right there; it’ll make a man do all manner of wild things.”

            Arthur knocked back his cup, some of its contents drizzling down his chin and he groaned. He leaned back in his hair and looked up at the poorly made ceiling. “Wow.” He said, blinking.

            “I think it’s time we go,” Merlin sighed and stood up.

            “Merlin, the room is _spinning_.” Arthur hissed accusingly, as if it were the servants fault, while he was lifted from his seat.

            “I’m afraid I can’t do anything about that.” Merlin bit his lip and realized that he lied again. He could do something about Arthur’s inebriation, but he wouldn’t. Even drunk Arthur might notice a flash of gold eyes and the euphoria of being healed by magic. “Let’s get you to bed.”

            Leon and the other knights laughed as they stumbled toward the door.

XiiX

            “You are so heavy,” Merlin groused as they got into Arthurs rooms. “Really, I can’t believe you’re _this_ heavy.”

            “Do you ever stop complaining?” Arthur mumbled into his own chest. He was having trouble keeping his head up. “I helped you up the steps that one time.” He reminded Merlin of incident at the lake. That was nearly a year ago now.

            That meant it was also nearly a year since Merlin had last seen his father, and longer yet since he had last seen the rest of his family. Archimedes and Balinor, as dragon and Dragonlord, could communicate telepathically no matter the distance and sometimes Art passed along a message from his father…but it wasn’t the same.

            “Do’you think ’m stupid? Everyone thinks ’m stupid.” Arthur snuffled and rolled forward. His face pressed into Merlin’s neck as the warlock tried to shut the door and hold Arthur up at the same time.

            “Oh, I definitely think you’re stupid.” The servant said lightly like he had a thousand times before.

            This time, though, Arthur couldn’t sense the sarcasm in his words. He was too drunk, or too heartbroken, to hear the joking tone, the _fondness,_ in Merlin’s voice. The Prince just tried to wretch himself away from the servant and threw himself in the vague direction of the bed, his aim a bit short.

            “Woa! What the, Arthur!” Merlin scrambled forward and grabbed Arthur’s arm then ground his heels into the floor, digging up the rug in his attempt to keep the Prince from face-planting. “What was that about, you lummox?” He panted and heaved Arthur against his chest again.

            “No, lemme go!” The knight protested feebly. “You think ’m stupid.” He accused and fell back on the mattress with Merlin’s help, one arm folded over his eyes.

            “I don’t _actually_ think you’re stupid.” The warlock said with a smile. As heartbreaking as Arthur’s distress was, it was also kind of cute. “You can’t help who you fall in love with.” He added while carefully keeping his eyes anywhere but on the Prince.

            “Yea,” Arthur huffed. “And Gwen likes Lance.” He sounded so deflated. “You told me,” the Prince started up again and kicked his foot out to strike at his servant. “That she liked _me_ and that she would wait for me to be King so that we could be together.”

            Merlin patiently caught the other man’s foot and started removing his boot but he ducked his head. He felt guilty. He had said that. Merlin had been so sure that Gwen really did love Arthur…but there was no denying the way she looked at Lance. He grappled with the boot straps, trying to quickly wrestle them off. “Lance left, though. Maybe you have another chance to win her heart.” As much as it hurt to say he knew it was true. Lance left so that Arthur and Gwen had a chance to be happy. Merlin needed to do the same; he needed to not get in the way of their happiness.

            “I don’t want to be her second choice.” The Prince protested and leaned up on his elbows to look down at the man pulling off his boot. “What should I do? Everyone knows I like Gwen. Morgana!” He shouted, “Morgana absolutely knows. She keeps giving me that…that, _knowing_ smirk. She’s probably laughing about it right now.”

            “No one is laughing at you.” Merlin disagreed and motioned for Arthur to sit up. “Come on, let’s get your shirt off.”

            Arthur just sat up and raised his arms like an expectant child. Merlin rolled his eyes and pulled off his tunic. It reeked of sweat and ale.

            “Have you tried talking to her? You should just tell her how you feel.” The warlock suggested helpfully as he walked to the wash room to retrieve a damp cloth to wipe down the Prince. He was too pissed to have a proper bath, so a quick washing with a cloth would have to do.

            “I can’t just _tell her._ ” Arthur cried indignantly as he allowed Merlin to wipe first his face and neck and then his armpits.

            The servant just gave Arthur a bored look and wondered how he could act high and mighty while he allowed another man to wipe the sweat from under his arms. “You reek,” he muttered and then added a bit louder, “Why can’t you just tell her?”

            “Because!” He sputtered, though it was a bit muffled as Merlin quickly pulled a long sleep shirt over his head. “You wouldn’t understand.” He grumbled childishly.

            Oh, but he did understand. Rejection was a fear Merlin felt acutely, every time he saw Arthur and was reminded of everything he couldn’t have. He sighed, “Can you manage your trousers?” Merlin bit his lip and resisted the urge to smooth out Arthurs ruffled hair.

            “Yes!” The Prince hissed and clumsily moved his thick fingers over the strings on his breeches. It took him an embarrassingly long time and even more concentration to get the strings undone but he finally did it.

            Wiggling out of the tight trousers, however, proved to be even more difficult and, for Merlin, hilarious. The servant didn’t even try to hide his amusement as he watched Arthur lift his butt off the bed and attempt to shimmy out of his trousers, only to tire himself out as the material got bunched around his thighs. The Prince grunted and fussed; he was too proud to ask for help but too sloppy to manage anything constructive.

          “You’re hopeless.” Merlin laughed behind his hand as Arthur finally flopped back and huffed. “I’ll pull them off,” he offered and grabbed the other man’s trousers by the ankles.

            Arthur said nothing; he only waved his arm encouragingly, dismissively.

            “Alright,” Merlin laughed again and shook his head to get a hold of himself. “One, two, three” he gave one firm yank and the clothing was pulled off revealing long, meaty legs. Suddenly Merlin’s stomach dropped and he didn’t feel like laughing.

            “Thanks Mer _lin._ ” Arthur snuffled and rolled farther back on to his bed once his legs were free. “You would be a great friend if you weren’t a servant.” He added sleepily into his pillow.

            The warlock’s heart stopped. Arthur had just said they weren’t friends. It stung more than it probably should. After all, it was nothing he didn’t already know. Even under different circumstances, they could never be friends, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. “What if I was a prince?” Arthur was so drunk he probably wouldn’t even remember this conversation, anyways.

            “You a prince?” Arthur laughed lazily and rolled his face to the side so he could look at the other man with one tired blue eye. “You can’t be a prince. I’m the Prince.”

            “Right,” Merlin smiled and shook his head. It was a stupid question.

            “But if we were both princes we would be friends.” Arthur concluded and closed his eyes with a sigh. “Sure, we’d be…we’d be like brothers.”

            And that made Merlin’s heart ache for so many reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I enjoyed writing drunk!Arthur, I hope you enjoyed reading it.


	20. The Witches Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgause appears in Camelot and Guinevere contemplates her feelings for Arthur again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Nineteen: THE WITCHES SISTER 

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cannon divergence episode 2: _Sins of the father 2:8_ , deaths

Words: 1671

XiiX

_Camelot_

            Merlin felt the swell of power as soon as her boots hit the Earth.

            _“Morgause is here.”_ Archimedes warned telepathically. Even though he was currently hiding in Merlin’s room, he could feel it as well. _“Balinor didn’t tell me she was coming. What’s going on?”_ The dragon sounded panicked.

            _“I don’t know.”_ He answered quickly and looked up at Arthur with nervous eyes. The Prince had no clue the priestess was looming within Camelot, none of them did. _“What does she want?”_ Merlin asked and stepped closer to his master as Uther continued to drone on about the importance of brotherhood to the newly inducted Knights of Camelot.

            _“I’ve no clue but she’s already killed two men.”_ Archimedes admits and Merlin can feel the dragon tense up, ready for a fight.

            Seconds later a tall figure in full armor charged into the throne room, moving with purpose toward Arthur and Merlin knows its Morgause, even if he can’t see her face. Her sword is raised and it’s still bloody with the remains of the men she had to kill to get here and another knight steps in her way. The warlock doesn’t wince as she cuts him though easily but he does coil, glaring at her through the helmet, as she stops in front of the Prince. He’ll kill her if he has to.

            “Who are you, what do you want?” Arthur asks with his sword in hand, enraged to see one of his younger knights cut down.

            Rather than answering she simply removes her gauntlet slowly, as if she has all the time in the world, and throws it down at Arthur’s feet.

            Merlin has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from jumping down and retrieving it. Morgause wouldn’t be standing so tall if he were her opponent.

            The Prince snatched the gauntlet up and glared at Morgause, still unaware that his mystery rival is female. “I accept your challenge.” He answered with a mouth full of teeth as if he wanted to bite her. “We’ll duel tomorrow at sunup. Will you, as my opponent, give me your name?” He asks tightly with Uther glaring over his shoulder. The tension was nearly singing through the throne room.

            Morgause, again with all the calm of a saint, steadily raised her hands and lifted up on the helmet. Her wavy blond hair spilled out and a more than a few people in the court room gasped. “My name is Morgan of North Umbria.” She answered calmly, giving the pseudonym that she had been operating under since she and her mother fled Camelot over twenty years ago.

            Merlin glanced at Uther and then at some of the older members of his court. He wondered if any of them would recognize the quiet daughter of Lady Vivienne and Sir Gorlois grown and with a bloodied sword in hand. Though Balinor had said many times that Morgause resembled her late father, no one here seemed to recognize her.

            “As a worthy opponent I expect to have a room for the night.” She said coolly, still eyeing Arthur. She didn’t dare glance at Merlin or Uther. The warlock assumed that she wouldn’t be able to hide her anger if she looked at the King.

            Arthur ground his teeth and clenched his fist. He was angry that someone had slain his brother in arms, but he was quickly feeling robbed of his chance to seek retribution. It would be considered distasteful if he fought a woman—and yet her snotty attitude made his blood boil.

            “You may have our hospitality,” Uther began slowly, “only if you promise to keep your steel sheathed for tonight.” He eyed her carefully. Maybe he did recognize her, Merlin thought. That would explain why he was willing to let her stay here for the night. He wanted time to test his theory. 

            “Of course,” she answered and slipped the sword back into its sheath at her hip efficiently. She still didn’t spare a sideways glance at the King. “I thank this court for the honor of dueling with the esteemed Prince Arthur.” Morgause said with a shallow bow and then flicked her eyes onto Morgana.

            A chill ran up Merlin’s spine. He could feel it like lighting surging in the air. The sister’s locked eyes and just like that Morgause had begun to sink her claws into the Kings ward.

XiiX

            “You shouldn’t fight her.” Merlin argued as Arthur paced up and down his bedroom that same evening.

            “I can’t withdraw from the duel. I’ll look like a coward.” He reasoned but then added with more excitement, “but if she were to back out then there would be no reason to hold her to it.” He eyed Merlin merrily.

            “You want me to ask her to take it back, don’t you?” The servant gave the other man a dull look.

            “Yes,” Arthur stepped up to his servant and pushed him around the shoulders. “Go, now, be polite. Tell her that I don’t feel right competing with a girl, and that she would be doing me a favor by pulling out.” He instructed as he pushed Merlin toward the door.

            “Fine, fine,” the warlock sighed and acted as if this was a bother but really he was happy to have an excuse to be alone with the witch.

            _“Be careful,”_ Archimedes warned as Merlin quickly entered his antechamber and retrieved his boots. He had been walking around Arthur’s room in just his socks. When did he get so comfortable around the prat, and when did Arthur finally stop harping about propriety to allow him such familiarity?

             The dragons’ shrill voice rung through Merlin’s head, _“She isn’t the girl that grew up in High Tower with you anymore. Nimueh has changed her.”_ The dragon flicked his leathery wing in an agitated manner.

            _“Don’t worry. Morgause might not be the warmest person around, but she knows better than to come after me.”_ Merlin flashed his dragon brethren a cocky grin. _“I’ll be fine.”_

            _“Very well.”_ Archimedes grumbled and settled atop the canopy on the bed.

            “Alright,” the servant said trying to sound as put off as possible. “I’ll go see if I can save your sorry backside from being beaten by a girl tomorrow.” Merlin closed the chamber door and heard the distinct clatter of a plate being struck at it and smirked.

            In the same moment Gwen rounded the corner with worry on her face and her hands busy ringing the apron on her waist. “Oh, Merlin, hello.” She jumped as if she had been caught when she noticed the other servant outside Arthur’s door.

            Merlin smiled merrily but he could sense something was wrong. The girl was a terrible liar, unlike the warlock. “Out for a stroll?”

            She nodded and then remembered herself and added, “the Lady Morgana gave me the night off. She said she wanted to be alone.”

            Merlin raised an eyebrow. He wondered if she was expecting a visitor and needed privacy. “What brings you over here, then?” He gave her a knowing grin and nodded in the direction of Arthur’s room.

            Guinevere flushed immediately and looked to the ground. “Merlin,” she started slowly. “Could I ask you something, about Arthur? You know him better than anyone and…” She looked up biting her lip. A coil of silky hair had unraveled by her ear and she looked absolutely stunning.

            For a second Merlin really wondered why he didn’t love her. Gwen was beautiful, and kind. Instead he was damned to love the one person who would always look past him or worse—hate him. “Of course,” the servant took a quiet step away from the chamber door so that Arthur wouldn’t over hear them. “What is it you want to ask?” As if he didn’t already know.

            “Do you think…” she looked so sheepish. “Do you think Arthur could ever truly admire me?” She rung her hangs over her apron with such force Merlin was sure the fabric would snap. “I mean, he’s the Prince and I’m just a handmaiden. I’m sure it’s just a passing fancy, you know? He’ll have to marry a princess and I’m no princess, Merlin.” She started rambling. “But…but sometimes he looks at me and I wonder, what if he does admire me? What should I do, Merlin? I can’t deny him, he’s the Prince!” She hissed and took a big breath.

            Merlin stood there with wide eyes, waiting for the woman to calm down before he tried to speak.

            “I don’t know what to do, what should I do? Does he like me? You must know.” She finally stilled her hands and her poor apron was released.

            Immediately Merlin thought two things: _I haven’t got time to deal with this now_ and, _you lucky girl_. “Gwen, Arthur does admire you, very much.” It took all of the warlocks remaining decency to tell Gwen this. She was a good person, and she and Arthur deserved to be happy. Who was he to deny them their happiness? “Didn’t you hear how he acted when you were abducted? He was a fool over it!” He tried to smile as enthusiastically as possible; it looked like she bought it. “I’m positive this isn’t a passing fancy, in fact I know it’s not. He truly cares about you and I don’t think he cares that you’re a handmaiden. If you give him a chance I think he’d surprise you.”

            “Really, you’re not just saying that?” She looked up at Merlin with big brown eyes wet with emotion and hope.

            “Of course not, I wouldn’t lie to you.” This time, he thought cynically and bit the inside of his cheek. “You should go talk to him; I’ll be out for a bit.” He offered and glanced back at the door again.

            The girl eyed the threshold and nodded shortly, probably too nervous to say anything.

            “Good luck.” He said, trying to sound as pleasant as possible even if his heart was crumbling like frail ash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many issues with how they used Morgauses character. How would NO ONE IN CAMELOT RECOGNIZE HER and if they did recognize her, how did she just stroll around without Uther losing his shit/scheming? *Throws hands up*


	21. Call to the Bloodoath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin reunites the sisters and tries to figure out Morgause’s plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Twenty: CALL TO THE BLOODOATH

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Short chapter

Words: 1546

XiiX

_Camelot_

            Merlin walked briskly to the corridor of guest rooms where Morgause was staying. The distance was too short and, even though he needed to deal with a dangerous witch and figure out exactly what she was up to, his heart was still tender. He couldn’t shake the feeling off. He knocked on her door anyways. Destiny waits for no man. 

            “Can I help you?” Morgause asked evenly with her guest door just barely ajar.

            Merlin frowned. It was probably smart to keep up pretenses of being unacquainted until they were alone, but he found her games annoying. “Yes, I’m Prince Arthur’s manservant. My name is Merlin. May I have a word with you about tomorrow’s duel?”

            She eyed him up and down, as if considering if she should allow this lowly servant into her room. There was a guard stationed at the end of the hall who wasn’t at all trying to hide his eavesdropping. “Very well,” she agreed after Merlin started to glare at her. “You may come inside so that we may speak.” She stepped away from the door but made no attempt to hold it for the warlock. Merlin imagined she must like treating the Siderian Prince like a common servant.

            Once the door was shut all the pretenses were dropped, however.

            “My father doesn’t know that you’re here, does he?” Merlin decided that was as good a place as any to start, even if he had about two hundred questions.

            “I don’t report to the Dragon Lord anymore.” Morgause answered smoothly as she walked farther into her guest room, away from the door.

            “So this was Nimueh’s idea.” He concluded.

            “Not everyone answers to a master,” the witch snapped. “But I’m sure you can’t relate, always following orders from your father and now Arthur.” Her lip curled in a snarl; it was similar to the look Morgana gave Uther on a regular basis.

            Merlin squeezed his hand into a fist. “Are you just after Morgana?” She was trying to anger him, distract him. That was a dangerous game. Things could get broken if Merlin lost his temper. She had been witness to one of his outbursts as a young teenager; she should know better.

            “No,” she replied shortly and rolled her shoulders. Morgause always carried herself like a warrior, and never a lady. She was now a full-fledged Priestess of the Old Religion but she never attained the grace or easy movements of Nimueh. “Not this time. I’m here to measure the worth of your prince.”

            Merlin slit his eyes. They were glowing a rich golden as magic pumped through his veins. “And how do you plan to do that?” He took a step forward and his magic pushed in the same direction, knocking the woman back against the wall.

            The stone-face witch had the decency to look stunned when her shoulders struck the wall painfully. She ground her teeth and glared, her eyes burning hot gold, but she couldn’t move the muscles in her hands or legs. “I don’t intend to kill Arthur, if that’s what you’re asking.”

            The warlock blinked as he considered what Morgause was saying. He felt some of his aggression simmer down and he released her from the wall. “I’m listening.” His magic still lurked heavily in the air, ready to be thrown back at the other in an instant.

            She regarded him with less hostility and more respect now, though her eyes were also still golden. She was the type that needed to be thrashed around a bit before she would show an ounce of reverence.

            Merlin thought it was a pity. He had grown up with Morgause and though she had always been a quiet child and a sullen teen, they were family. They still are family.

            “I want to open his eyes, that’s all.” She explained. “He has a great destiny awaiting him, but how he plays his role has yet to be seen by Nimueh or myself.”

            “So you want to push things along?” He guessed. Morgause never was a patient person.

            “Exactly.” She smiled weakly and for a second Merlin remembered the girl that used to sing when she thought she was alone and no one would hear. “All that has been foretold is that Arthur will be a great king and his reign will see a peacetime unlike any Albion has seen before, but how he brings about this peace is unknown…whether or not magic has a place in his Albion is unknown. I want to find out how much of him is his mother, and how much is Uther.”

            Merlin considered what Morgause had to say. He forgot that the witch had actually known Arthur’s mother. It seemed unfair that the Prince never got to meet her, and only had Uther’s stern parenting his whole life. “He’s got a kind heart, I’ve seen it.”

           “We’ll see,” she said mildly.

           Merlin then remembered his official reason for being here. “Arthur wants you to respectfully withdrawal from the duel,” he smirked at the Priestess. He already knew how she would respond to that foolhardy request.

            She scoffed, “Absolutely not. For one, I would like to test my skills against the legendary Prince Arthur, Camelot’s finest knight.” Her words were full of disdain. “Secondly, I need to defeat him to proceed with the second half of my plan.” She caught Merlin’s deadly glare and quickly added, “I said I’m not going to kill him!”

            “Fine.” Merlin crossed his arms. “Will you attempt to see Morgana while you are here?”

            The confidence drifted from Morgause’s stern face again. She wasn’t a warm woman and maybe the idea of reuniting with her little sister frightened her. “Yes, I would like that.” She said softly and looked at the man—her distant cousin—with something akin to hope.

            It’s not as if Merlin could deny her, anyways. His arm was burning up from the blood oath. After Morgause met with Morgana the contract he made with Nimueh would be over—they had only agreed to hold this stalemate until Morgause came to Camelot. “I can bring you to her.”

            “I would like that.”

            The warlock smirked. “She’s on the other side of the castle, but that shouldn’t be a problem for us.” Merlin couldn’t deny that he was actually excited to navigate through the castle with an accomplice. It was a shame that they were never friends.

            “I suppose you don’t mean for us to kill anyone on our way,” she observed with obvious disappointment.

            Merlin frowned. “Of course not, what’s wrong with you!” He sighed and rolled his wrists. This was exactly why they had never been closer. Morgause was a loose cannon. Maybe reuniting her with the impressionable Morgana was a bad idea. “Can you manage an intangible spell?”

            “Yes,” she answered haughtily. “You aren’t the only one who spent their entire life mastering magic.”

            “Fine fine,” he snapped. “We’ll do that; just follow me.” Merlin threw up the hood on his cloak and waited for Morgause to cover herself in a similar way. This spell would allow them to walk through walls, but they wouldn’t be invisible. Once they were both cloaked and standing near the back of Morgause’s room Merlin wordlessly cast onto his own body while the witch chanted the incantation.

            “Lead the way,” she said in that eerie calm voice that made the man’s skin crawl.

            Merlin nodded and then dove through the stone wall. The sensation of traveling through solid material was bizarre to say the least. It was similar to being in the cold, but more pressing, dense, like being in a thick fog. He took Morgause’s hand around the wrist and led her back, through the thick stone walls and into one of the many servants’ corridors.

            Merlin could only imagine how terrible this would look if anyone saw them. The Prince’s manservant leading a known killer into the King’s wards bedroom with magic. He wanted to get this over with.

            It was relatively easy to sift through the castle, though. The guards’ attentions were placed on Morgause, and not on this side of the castle.

            “Are you ready?” He asked as they stood outside Morgana’s bedroom door.

            “Yes,” she answered calmly and blinked at the warlock.

            “Do you want me to introduce you or leave you alone with her?”

            “I’d like to be alone.” She was just staring at the door as if she wanted to knock it down with magic.

            Merlin bit his lip. He was worried about leaving her alone with Morgana, but at the same time he didn’t have much of a choice. “Alright. Can you manage to get back to your room on your own? Arthur will be wondering where I am.”

            She nodded, clearly she was done talking.

            “Don’t,” he sighed, “don’t tell her about me, alright? It’s easier for me to do what I do, including protect her, without her knowing.”

            She glanced at Merlin as if considering his request. “Very well,” she dispelled the intangible charm and put her hand on the door knob. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Next chapter Merlin hears about Uther's plan.


	22. The Enahah Crystal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin overhears Uther’s plans to end all magic use and gets unexpected news from Sidera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Twenty-One: THE ENANAH CRYSTAL

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Plot development, cliff hangers

Words: 2607

XiiX

            Merlin sighed and tried not to worry too much about Morgana and Morgause. There was nothing he could do about it now. Between the conversation that he had with Gwen and the drama with Morgause, Merlin was exhausted. He wanted to go to bed. Instead of returning straight to his antechamber, however, he needed to first return to the witches guest room. Otherwise the guard keeping watch over Morgause’s room would think he stayed there all night.  

             When the warlock reached the staircase at the end of the hall his arm burned, much like it had when he and Nimueh originally made the blood oath and he knew that the deal was now null and void. Nimueh was now free to attack Camelot and anyone on her soil; Merlin was no longer burdened with protecting Morgana.

            A chill ran up Merlin’s spine as he walked down the staircase toward the ground floor. He realized that, though he might have made the best choice possible at the time, he had certainly played into the witches’ hand. He didn’t yet know their game, but he was sure it would become evident shorty. Merlin had to wait, remain watchful, and be ready for anything…

            “Sire, I’m sure of it this time.”

            Merlin froze mid-step. He was standing right outside a council room and the door was ajar, a sliver of candle light cutting into the dark hallway where the warlock stood. He recognized that voice, it was Talmond, an oily vizier that had always gave Merlin the creeps. He saw him rarely, usually wrapped up in moth-eaten robes and lurking in Uther’s shadow. His position, Court Scholar, had replaced the position of Court Sorcerer once Uther declared war on magic. Talmond’s main purpose, as Merlin had understood it, was to gather information on magic and magic persons so that Uther could kill as many sorcerers as possible.

            Though Talmond was creepy with his lack-luster black hair and dead brown eyes, Merlin was never particularly afraid of the man. Most of the “secrets” he drudged up about magic were simply wrong. The expert had no idea what he was talking about half the time. However, the fact that Talmond was up at this hour with the King was enough to make Merlin pause.

            “Are you sure this time? I am not a patient man,” Uther warned and, though Merlin couldn’t see it, he was sure the King was clenching his teeth. “I’ve already done over twenty years of waiting and approved exhibitions a dozen times. This had better produced some results. Are you even positive this Eananah Crystal exists?” 

            Merlin’s spine straightened. He felt as if he should recognize this crystal they were talking about. It sounded familiar, but he had no idea why Uther would desire it.

           “I’m certain of it, Sire” Talmond hissed. “Our last batch of captives included Alvaar. He proved quite knowledgeable once given the appropriate motivation.” The smirk on his lips could be heard loud and clear even if Merlin couldn’t see it.

            “Alvaar?” Uther asked and then added, “ah yes. You tortured him, didn’t you?” There was glee in his voice.

            Merlin felt sick. He had never met Alvaar, personally. The man had been well known, however. He was deemed a fanatic even within magical circles, always leaning more toward violence and the extreme. He was outlawed even in Sidera. Avlaar did not deserve to be tortured to death, though.

            “Yes, for weeks before he finally told us what we needed to know.” Talmond responded in his sick voice. “If he is right then our searching is over. Avlaar had connections with many nefarious witches and warlocks; I believe he knew where the crystal is located.”

            Silence crept through the night air. Merlin held his breath as Uther considered. The quite lasted for ages and soon Merlin’s skin began to itch with anxiety.

            “Very well,” Uther finally answered. “You will travel to Kent with this knowledge; King Horvath will put together a search party. Report back to me as soon as you locate it."

            "You trust Kent with this mission?" The scholar shrieked. "They will not assist us for nothing, Sire." 

            A harsh noise cracked through the chilly air like a whip and Merlin, though he couldn't see it, knew the King had hit Talmond. "Do not question me, you filthy bookworm. King Horvath is a devote champion against magic." 

            “Yes, my King.” The inky scholar mumbled and Merlin imagined the coward ducking his head. “But Sire,” he began timidly. “Once we have it, how do you plan to get the Eananah Crystal into Sidera?”

            Uther grunted, sounding as if he had not sorted this out yet. "That doesn't concern you.” He said it with finality and Merlin knew that the conversation was over.

            The eavesdropping warlock startled—if he didn’t hide Uther and Talmond would find him standing out in the hall. Thinking just quickly enough Merlin reenacted the intangible spell and stepped into the thick wall against his back just as Uther marched into the hall.   

            Merlin couldn’t see through the solid stone, but he could hear Uther and Talmond taking steps down the hall until they grew fainter and weaker and then there was just silence. He waited a few more minutes for good measure before slipping out of the thick walls. He needed to talk to Archimedes.

XiiX

 _“Art, we need to talk.”_ Merlin called to his brother as he left Morgause’s empty room. He was now heading directly to Arthur’s room and his own antechamber.

            _“I think it would be best if we met outside, or in Gaius’s quarters.”_ The dragon suggested with uncharacteristic aloofness.

            _“What, why? I want to go back to my own room.”_ Merlin protested. He was now close to his antechamber door. Luckily he didn’t have to go through Arthur’s room to get in and out of his own, though he chose to use the Prince’s door more often than not just to annoy him. Merlin opened up his door and Archimedes emerged from behind Merlin’s bed.

            As soon as his door shut the quiet made way for the sound from Arthur’s room to seep through. He could hear the distinct ring of girlish laughter, followed by Arthur’s rough, sleep darkened voice.

            Oh, Gwen was still here.

            _“I didn’t think you would want to hear this.”_ Art explained with a sheepish look.

            Merlin reddened immediately. He hadn’t outwardly expressed his feelings for Arthur to anyone, and he especially didn’t want to talk to Art about it. However, it was probably inevitable. Art could sense Merlin’s feelings almost as acutely as Merlin himself. The dragon had probably only stayed quiet about it out of respect. _“I didn’t realize you knew.”_ The warlock looked down at his feet, his face burning.

            Art sighed and flapped his wings. _“Come on,”_ he flew to Merlin’s chest. The prince in disguise lifted his arm so that the dragon could fit inside his coat; the one Arthur bought for him, and hid there. _“We’ve got things to discuss and this isn’t the place to do it.”_

XiiX

            They retreated to Gaius’s room; the physician was a good sport about sharing his space at such a late hour.

            “I’ve been worried sick since Morgause arrived,” the older man grumbled.

            “You knew it was Morgause?” Merlin asked, only a little surprised.

            “She looks just like her father. A person would have to be blind not to recognize her, even if she’s much more vicious than Sir Gorlois ever was.”

            Merlin just snorted. Who knew who else recognized the witch? Even Uther might recognize her and just be biding his time. He may even be using her to try to find Lady Vivienne.

            “Did you confront her; do you know why she is here?” Gaius asked. Surely he was just as worried about Morgana as Merlin was worried about Arthur. 

            Merlin didn’t waste any time and explained to his companions what happened between him and Morgause. Gaius wasn’t happy to hear that she had been left alone with Morgana, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it now. Art and the physician went back and forth speculating over what Morgause could be planning. Meanwhile, Merlin tried very hard not to think about Gwen curled up in Arthurs room by the fire, giggling, and drinking wine.

            “There’s something else,” the warlock added after he managed to tuck his sadness away long enough to remember what he had heard in the hall. “I overheard the King and Talmond talking about the Eananah Crystal. Talmond thinks he knows where it’s located and Uther has agreed to send men out to find it.”

            “You didn’t think to lead with this information, Emrys?” Archimedes squawked and flapped his wings angrily.

            “What is it?” Merlin and Gaius asked in unison.

             Art looked a little perturbed, as if he was in disbelief he had to explain such things to mortals, but he settled down on the table where he stood and began to talk. “You’ve seen it, Merlin, or at least the cradle. Don’t you remember, down in the crystal caves?”

             Merlin’s eyes lit up. He remembered, though until now he had forgotten. He had stumbled across it just before he had his first vision about Arthur, right before he moved to Camelot and his entire life change. “I remember that chamber, in the caves. I didn’t like it, it was like being trapped in a cage away from my magic.” He recalled the cold feeling he experienced as he touched the soil.

             The dragon nodded curtly. “Yes, that is the cradle of the Eananah crystal. When the Triple Goddess brought magic to Albion they ignited it from the skies and into the Earth through the Crystal Cave. Later the Dragonlord’s built Dragons Keep over the mountains and the systems below, it was to protect the sacred caves.”

             The warlock nodded his head. He had heard this creation story many times. It was a part of his history, his heritage as a magical person and as a Dragonlord. His family and the dragons protect the caves, and lived there to be close to the birthplace of magic.

             “Each of those crystals is a beacon for magic.” The dragon continued to lecture. “They allow magic and magical creatures from Avalon, such as the dragons and ferries, to exist in the realm of man. Without the birth place of magic, without the Crystal Caves, magic wouldn’t be able to exist here. I wouldn’t be able to exist here. However, when magic was brought here it was in all forms—both good and dark magic. The Triple Goddess gave the order of the High Priestesses the Eananah Crystal as a failsafe. If dark magic ever took over the realm of man they could snuff out _all_ magic by bringing the Eananah Crystal to the Crystal Caves and slotting it into the cradle...

             “Of course, such a power was only entrusted to a select few. Balinor has ever seen the crystal. I’m not even sure that Kilgharrah knows where it is anymore. Nimueh’s teacher, Daphne, had been entrusted with the crystal but when she perished during the Great Purge it was nowhere to be found. We had all hoped that Daphne had hidden it with sorcery and it would stay forgotten, most people believe it is a legend now…but somehow Uther has heard of it.”

             “Oh my,” Gaius said gravely. “If that crystal got in the wrong hands… but Uther would have to find a way into Dragons Keep and travel deep into the mountain to reach the Crystal Caves. It would be near impossible for any of Camelot’s forces to even reach Dragon’s Keep, let alone actually impregnate the mountain,” he added a little more hopefully.

             “Did Uther say how he planned on getting into Dragons Keep if he located the crystal?” Archimedes asked, full of concern.  

            “I didn’t hear that part. All I know is that they are working with King Horvath, from Kent.”

            “I still need to tell Balinor,” Archimedes answered. He knew Merlin liked to try to take care of things on his own, it was _his_ destiny, but Art had an obligation to his Dragonlord.

            “I understand.” He waited while Archimedes silently called for Balinor. The young warlock always felt strange when his father came between him and Art. When Art and Balinor spoke telepathically it was the only time he didn’t feel connected to the dragon. Archimedes couldn’t reach out to both of them at the same time. They really were like brothers, and they both had to answer to their father.

            Gaius and Merlin watched as the dragon wordlessly communicated with Balinor, Art winced here and there and Merlin assumed that was due to the information about the crystal. Suddenly, though, the dragon looked confused, and then gave Merlin a sympathetic glance. Finally the conversation was over and he sighed. “Well, that went about as well as could be expected.”  

            “What did he say?” Merlin asked slowly. He felt as if Art wasn’t telling him something, like when he was a child and didn’t understand why he had to hide that he had magic.

            The dragon ducked his head. “You have been betrothed, and will have to return to Sidera soon.”

            “What?!” Merlin shouted and almost spun out of his stool. “To who?!” Of all the news he expected from his father, this was not it. How could his parents be thinking of marrying him off at a time like this?

            “I cannot tell you. The Dragonlord forbade it.” Art looked absolutely miserable.

            “Well when do I have to return?” He pleaded, feeling fear consume him—fear that he wouldn’t be around to protect Arthur any more.

            “He did not say, but I would imagine he will have you wait until after the crystal is located.” Archimedes answered curtly. Balinor probably ordered him not to speak more than he had to.

            Merlin slumped back in his stool and moaned, feeling totally drained. “I can’t believe this.”

            Gaius only chuckled though. “Is this the worst news you could receive?”

            “Possibly! Depends who I’m going to spend the rest of my life with!” Merlin moaned and dragged his palm against his face, pulling his eyelids down in a dramatic display of irritation. Honestly, after he met Arthur he stopped considering having a life beyond the prat. How could he expect to have a wife or a family if he had to protect Arthur Pendragon all day every day?  Of course, there may have also been other reasons why Arthur seemed to block out the possibility of getting married. “What are they thinking?” The prince hissed. His parents had never spoken of arranging his future marriage.

            “Emrys has to make sacrifices,” Art answered glumly as if he suddenly realized why Merlin always resented being who he was.

XiiX

            That night Merlin and Art decided to sleep in the physician’s back room, not wanting to risk intruding on anything going on between Arthur and Gwen. Gaius didn’t mind, and quickly went to sleep on his bed roll.

            “Tomorrow morning I’ll fly out of the castle just before the dawn and hide in the forest. In case anything happens during the duel I want to be nearby.” Art explained and snuggled up against his brothers back.

            “Sounds like a plan,” Merlin said sleepily. Even for him today had been especially strange and very tiring.

_ii_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things start moving along from here. Let me know what you think. Am I tying all these things together? Any lose ends?


	23. The Test of Arthur Pendragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur faces Morgause in battle and she offers the prince an opportunity he cannot pass up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Twenty-Two: THE TEST OF ARTHUR PENDRAGON

Ratings: General Audience

Warnings: Cannon divergence, episode 2:8 _Sins of the Father_

Words: 2533

XiiX

 _Camelot_         

            Merlin eyed Morgause over Arthurs shoulder as he prepared the Prince for his duel. In this match both participants would be within their rights to kill the other, but Merlin had to hope that neither Arthur nor Morgause would take things that far.

            “This is all your fault. If you had done your part correctly we wouldn’t be in this predicament.” Arthur sniffed as Merlin finished layering him up for battle.

            “Wha— _my_ fault?” Merlin hissed and whipped his head down to look at the knight. Merlin often forgot that he was actually taller.

            It seemed Arthur didn’t like to be reminded of their height difference either because he just squinted up at his servant and took a step back. The difference wasn’t so stark when they stood apart a few feet. “Yes, you were supposed to convince her to back out, or don’t you remember? Did you even go talk to her last night?”

            There may have been smoke coming out of the warlock’s ears. “Of course I did, you prat! Maybe if you had gone and talked to her yourself she would have actually considered it.” She wouldn’t have, but Arthur didn’t know that. “Instead you were too busy…seducing handmaidens!” Merlin accused and shoved the knight’s sword in his hand.

            It was Arthur's turn to sputter and look shocked. “I, you—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            Just then Lady Morgana and Guinevere walked by. Morgana looked distracted but Gwen was beaming and openly waved to the prince. Arthur blushed immediately and only just managed to gather enough wits to wave back.

            “Uh-hu, sure. You wouldn’t know anything about drinking wine with Gwen until the late night, and forcing your servant to sleep somewhere else least he be tormented by your obnoxious giggles.” Merlin threw his arms up and wondered if maybe he should just let Morgause kill the fool—Albion be damned.  

            “I do not _giggle!_ ” Arthur seethed and looked like he wanted to run Merlin through with his sword. Instead Uther called the crowd to calm and the Prince snapped his head toward his father. The duel would be starting soon.

            “Good luck, prat.” Merlin said quietly and very sincerely, and Arthur just gave a short nod of acknowledgement.

            Walking away Merlin cursed himself. Why did he have to mention that _now_ at a time like this, or ever really. How much more obvious could he get? If he didn’t watch it his feelings for Arthur would be as apparent to everyone else as it is to Art. Uther was still droning on when Merlin made his way over to the stands. He was allowed to stand up next to Gwen and Morgana as Arthur’s servant. He spared Morgause one last cautionary glare before the match started. He hoped his intention was clear—I will kill you if I have to. Morgause never even blinked.

XiiX

            Morgause admitted to herself that the duel lasted longer than she thought it would. She was expecting Arthur’s fabled prowess to be entirely fictitious, and no substance. She was surprised when he held his own more than just adequately but actually made her work for the ground she gained. It was a close duel, closer than she wanted actually, but she had a few years of experience on him and hate fueled her passion. Arthur hadn’t experienced any great loss or struggle. He didn’t have the same fire motivating him. Eventually she got the boy on his back, looking up at her steel.

            For a moment she considered running him through. Yes, Merlin would most likely kill her right here, but it would be worth it. Dying would be worth seeing the pain cut through Uther’s face just before she died. Before she could do it, though, she glanced at Morgana. The girl looked paralyzed with fear. She loved Arthur and it would hurt her if Morgause slaughtered him like this. Morgana might never trust her again and Morgause couldn’t have that.

            She exhaled and relaxed her shoulders. Arthur noticed the change in posture immediately and he too relaxed a fraction. “I will spare your life but in turn you will owe me a debt.”

            Arthur wasn’t really in any position to argue. “I accept,” he said still sounding slightly winded.

            “If you’re anything like your mother you will uphold your word.” Morgause said and narrowed her eyes on the young prince.

             The shock was smattered across his face immediately. “You knew my mother?” He staggered up with the help of her extended hand.

             “In three nights take your horse out for a run; he’ll know what to do.” She said nothing more. The crowd, who had all been holding their breath for the young prince, cheered as he stood. Uther gathered his wits a second later and unhappily announced that Morgan of North Umbria was victorious.

            Merlin was down in the arena in a second. Seeing Arthur talking alone with Morgause was making his skin crawl. By the time he reached them she was already walking away, though. “What was that about?” Merlin asked as Morgause moved toward the back of the crowd.

            “She’s leaving, and she wants me to follow after her in three nights.” Arthur explained without turning his head to look at his servant.

            “What? You said no, didn’t you? Your father will never allow you to go.” Merlin tried to reason with the knight but it sounded like he had already made up his mind.

            “I gave my word, I’ve got to go. She said she knew my mother. Merlin,” he said suddenly. “I need to talk to the King.” With that he was up and moving in an instant.

            Morgana passed Arthur on his way up to the King and she was headed past Merlin and toward Morgause. “Has Lady Morgan left yet?” She asked Merlin and craned her head over the crowd to try to locate the tall blond.

            “I don’t know,” the servant answered truthfully. “What’s that bracelet?” He asked, feeling a power radiate off of the trinket. It was made from magic.

            “Oh,” Morgana said suddenly and pulled her wrist behind her back. “It was a gift, from Lady Morgan.” She explained quickly and didn’t appear likely to forfeit any more information. “I feel a bond with her, you know? I’m glad we had the chance to meet. I hope she decides to stay longer.” She said sadly but then looked up a little shocked, as if she was surprised she had said that out loud, and Merlin wondered how much Morgause told Morgana. 

            The servant eyed the young witch carefully but there was nothing he could do or say here, in front of all these people. “I think she plans to leave shortly.” Morgana was off just as quickly as Arthur and Merlin felt like crying. He literally had obligations running in every direction. It was maddening.

XiiX

THREE NIGHTS LATER

            “I cannot believe you dropped me out of a window into a pile of horse shit.” Arthur shouted once they were a safe distance from the citadel.

            Merlin _tried_ to look apologetic, a little. Really he just fought not to laugh. “I said I was sorry!” He was thankful they both were on separate horses and Arthur couldn’t reach him. “It was an accident anyway.”

            “You’ll be lucky if you leave the stables for a year.” Arthur grumbled and spurred his horse a bit too roughly.

            Within this next year Merlin would probably be married off and Uther would have the crystal, bringing war to his homeland. Merlin wondered if Uther had even informed Arthur of the mission yet. He got the feeling that the King didn’t inform Arthur of most of his more sensitive plans. His war on magic has turned Uther into a paranoid and distrusting man, even toward his own child.

            Everything was uncertain. Arthur was still in danger of being assassinated at any moment; Morgana was withdrawing more and more each day; Nimueh and Morgause were up to something and Merlin was no closer to figuring out their plan. Merlin needed to find out how Uther planned to infiltrate Dragons Keep with the crystal _before_ his parents made him return to Sidera, and somehow come to terms with the rotten truth that he would lose Arthur when this was all done.

XiiX

_Undisclosed location outside of Camelot_

            It took them all night and half of the morning to reach their destination. Merlin discovered once they got moving that Arthur didn’t know where they were going; Morgause had enchanted his horse to lead the way. That made Merlin nervous. Who knew where they were headed, or who would be waiting for them. For all he knew they could be meeting Nimueh and Morgause and then Merlin would be in serious trouble. Art stayed back at in Camelot; Merlin was out here all alone. Well, alone with Arthur.

            “This is where she wanted you to meet her?” Merlin asked skeptically as Arthurs horse came to a halt on the outskirts of a dilapidated tower. It was probably the home of a magical family, a well off one by the looks of it. Perhaps they were even a lord and lady, who knew if they were even alive now.

            “I suppose,” Arthur muttered and eyed their surroundings wearily. “Do you think she lives here?” He asked with a crinkled nose.

            Merlin knew that she most certainly did not live here. Morgause had been living with Nimueh for years now and, as a Priestess of the Old Religion, she did not require the same things mortal men did. Morgause and Nimueh could go weeks without eating or drinking and could go longer without sleep. When they did sleep they had no need for a bed, though they did occasionally sleep on a mattress, generally they fell into the cradle of the earth or in the trees. To maintain their powers they required to stay bonded to nature. If Merlin had to guess the two witches most likely spent most of their time on the Isle of the Blessed. “Arthur,” Merlin asked cautiously. He wasn’t sure what they had gotten themselves into, exactly, but he was certain that Morgause wasn’t going to continue to pretend to be a mere mortal. “Are you positive this woman doesn’t have magic?”

            Arthurs head snapped up from where he was tying his horse’s reigns to a nearby tree. “I hadn’t thought of it, but now that you mention it that would explain why my father was so against me coming out here. Do you think he knew that she’s a witch?”

            Merlin bit his lip. If he had to guess he would say yes, Uther knew exactly who _Morgan_ was and he might have even ordered knights to follow her, to try to track her and Vivienne down. The warlock couldn’t share his theory, though. “I don’t know, it just seems eerie, is all.”

            It started to rain abruptly and Merlin glared at the sky. This was not a natural rain. Arthur immediately took to the partially crumbled tower. The servant groaned and, instead of tying up his horse, magically commanded it to stay and followed after his master.

            Inside the dilapidated tower everything was dry, despite some open spots on the ceiling, and everything was warm with a soft yellow glow. Magic kept this place standing, warm, and dry.

            Arthur looked up in awe. He had never seen magic used for anything other than in attempts on his life. “This is…”

            “Yea,” Merlin agreed with a gulp. It was beautiful, but it was also sad. Arthur couldn’t see the sadness, though. Merlin could feel it. A family had lived here, and they had also been slaughtered here.

            “I’m glad to see you upheld your word.” Morgause called from across the tower. She was still dressed in full chain-mail and had her sword at her hip. She nodded her head in greeting toward both Merlin and Arthur.

            “You did not tell me you are a witch.” Arthur said, though he sounded less accusatory than Merlin had expected.

            “You did not ask,” she answered calmly and stopped next to an altar of sorts. Behind it was the night sky in all its stormy glory as the wall was entirely missing.

            “You said you knew my mother.” Arthur redirected, ignoring that this strange and dangerous woman was, in fact, a sorceress.

            “I did. She was kind and much too good for your father.” She said and looked down at the altar. It had a large wooden bowl on top of it and various jars overflowing with strange liquids and powders. “Would you like to speak with her?”

            Merlin wanted to protest. He knew enough about magic that this was dangerous. It took strong magic to connect the living and the dead, even for seconds. The task usually required multiple sorcerers, or, in most cases, dark magic.

            Arthur agreed too quickly, though, and accepted Morgause’s offer. “Yes, of course.”

            “This will require powerful magic; I will need the blood of a King.” She returned evenly and flashed her eyes up to Arthur. “Or a Prince, but I would need much more from the later.”

            Arthur gulped. He would need to spill his blood, and a lot of it, to see his mother. “Yes, alright.”

            “Arthur! You don’t even know her!” Merlin warned and took a step forward, to stand beside his friend.

            “Unless there is another prince nearby who is willing to shed his blood,” Morgause said with a sly smile in Merlin’s direction. “Prince _Arthur_ must offer his blood for this to work.”

            Merlin gulped. Morgause was threatening to out him as the Siderian Prince right in front of Arthur. “Just, think about this, please.” Merlin lightly touched the knights’ arm, to try to pull him out of this, but Arthur jerked away.

            “I’ll do it.” He said bravely and walked toward Morgause who already had her sword out.

            “You would shed your own blood, and not rather gather your fathers or another noble, all for a few seconds to speak with your mother? It will be dangerous. I need much blood.” She asked slowly as if to make sure the dense knight understood what she was offering, and the cost.

            “Yes, it’s my desire…it should be my blood.” He said and lifted his chain mail and tunic, ready to be pierced however the witch saw fit.

            Morgause just smiled, though, and lowered her blade. “You have passed the test, young prince.”

            Arthur blinked in surprise and Merlin about fell over. If he had to watch Morgause hold a sword over Arthur’s body one more time he might just die.

            “What do you mean?” The knight asked and dropped his tunic, covering his chest and stomach once more.

            “I was only testing you. A lesser man would expect someone else to pay the price for this exchange. You were willing to spill your own blood and risk your own life for what you desire. I will perform the rite and you will speak with your mother tonight.” She raised her arm and showed Arthur backwards a bit, so that she had space to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank you to the people who have taken the time to leave reviews. I realize I have written a beast of a fic and there is such a slow pace, it takes really patient readers to stick with me. I hope I can deliver in the end, I feel good about what I've put together but of course you guys are the bosses :)  
> Quick shout outs to some specific reviewers....  
> Whiskmeawayinthetardis I love your enthusiasm!  
> Agentbond_007 You're so kind!  
> Ensnaredinsanity I'm still humbled you were so jazzed up you left three comments rapid succession


	24. Ygraine's Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is pushed over the edge by the meeting with his mother and Merlin faces off against Morgause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that chapter one includes warnings and facts about this AU that might be helpful to reference throughout the story.

Chapter Twenty-Three: YGRAINE’S SON  

Ratings: Teen

Warnings: Cannon divergence, episode 2:8 _Sins of the Father_

, magical-violence (nothing gory)

Words: 2022

XiiX

_Undisclosed location outside of Camelot_

            Merlin thought he had learned everything there was to learn from the Druids, but Morgause proved that the young Emrys still had a thing or two to learn. She was able to halt time, open a sliver through space into the afterlife, and call Ygraine forward. She was beautiful and glowing; she looked like a goddess.

            Merlin felt like an outsider as he watched Ygraine embrace her adult son and gently cry. He couldn't imagine how Arthur felt in that moment. Morgause stood beside Merlin, also quiet and watching.

            “I’ve got so many questions,” Arthur said in disbelief as he looked at his mother for the first time. This was surely the woman he saw in portraits tucked away in Uther’s private rooms. He had only seen them once or twice in his life, but he was certain that his was his mother.

            “And we’ve got so little time,” she said sadly.

            “I…I’m sorry.” The prince said suddenly, without having thought about it. If he only had a few seconds to speak with his mother he needed to say it at least once. “I’m sorry I, if it weren’t for me you would still be alive.” The guilt had been wearing a hole in his heart for twenty one years now and he felt like it might kill him.

            “My darling boy, no.” Ygraine cried and cradled her son’s face with her pale hands. “No, it was never your fault, love, never. It is your fathers.” She explained with equal part affection and hostility.

            “What?” Arthur asked, blinking away tears and slowly sobering.

            “I couldn’t get pregnant,” she looked so sad for a moment but then continued. “Your father wanted an heir so badly he forced me to allow the Priestess Nimueh to get me with child through magic.” She explained softly and brushed back his hair, hair that looked so alike her own. “I didn’t want to, I was so scared, and Nimueh told us that the cost for your life would be another. Your father wouldn’t listen to reason, though, and I died as a consequence.”

            Arthur was silent for an agonizing three seconds, but this his mother’s image began to flicker and she wasn’t as solid in his arms. “No, mother, just a few more seconds.”

            “I’m sorry my son,” she sounded so heart broken. “I’m glad to have met you even just once. You’re better than your father, kinder and there is room in your heart for selflessness. Don’t let his hate and greed guide you; that is my parting wish.” She smiled warmly and Arthur watched as she dissolved and all the light around her spun up into the stars.

            Merlin and Morgause both remained quiet. The warlock was surprised Morgause seemed to have the social tact to allow Arthur a moment to regain his senses. The Prince stood by the altar with his back to the other two, subtly wiping away a few tears and swallowing down his sadness.

            “What she said, is it true?” He asked loudly, voice still raw. He hadn’t turned around yet.

            “Yes,” Morgause replied without hesitation. “That was your mother, and she is one of the few people who could tell you. Only the Priestess Nimueh, the physician Gaius, your mother, and your father truly know what happened because they were there.” 

            “And my father’s ban on magic?” Arthur turned around. His eyes were red but his other features had smoothed over. “Is this how he has displaced his guilt after forcing me into existence and killing my mother?”

            Morgause smirked and Merlin felt his heart sink. This was all wrong. This wasn’t the way to bring peace. Arthurs reign couldn’t begin like this. “It is strange that the Great Purge followed your mother’s death so closely,” the witch observed coyly. “Officially, King Uther banned magic after sorcery resulted in his Queen’s death but,” Morgause hid her amusement well. “Ones perspective does change when all the facts are known, doesn’t it?”

            Arthur clenched his fist and, without sparing a glance at the witch or Merlin, began a hard pace toward his horse.

            “Wait, Arthur, what do you mean to do?” Merlin boldly reached out and pulled on the knight’s arm but he was quickly shrugged off.

            “My father has killed thousands, all because of his own guilt! And my mother!” The blond shouted and Merlin blinked back in surprised. Arthur had never been this angry before. “He has sent hundreds to the pyre and children—Mordred—” the Prince shook his head, unable to complete his sentence.

            The warlock felt totally helpless in a matter of seconds. He knew that Arthur continued to carry the guilt of Mordred’s death on his shoulders and now the child’s death made even less sense. “What do you mean to do, Arthur?” He asked again, this time slower.

            “I’m going to make him answer for his crimes,” Arthur said darkly and walked ahead once more. This time when Merlin grabbed his arm the servant was thrown down to the ground for his troubles. “Stay out of this!” The Prince barked and was outside, climbing his horse in a matter of seconds.

            “You should listen to him,” Morgause advised smugly as she glanced down at her distant cousin.

            “You’re so reckless!” Merlin yelled from where he had been pushed down. “You don’t mean to push along Arthur; you mean to push along _fate!_ ” He accused and brought himself up. “You have no idea what the consequences might be,” Merlin warned and fought the urge to shake Morgause by the shoulders. The Druid Kindal, master of scrying and interpreting dreams to tell the future, had drilled Merlin’s adolescent mind with one truth— _you cannot manipulate fate without consequences._ The few times Merlin had talked to Kilgharrah he got similar, though less direct, advice.

            “I know that every day Uther sits on the thrown more of us die, and that you have done nothing with your time in Camelot to stop that! In fact,” she said angrily and took a step forward, “I know that you allowed the death of at least one of our kind.”

            Merlin steadied his jaw and raised his head. “I won’t deny it.” He didn’t know how Morgause learned about Mordred, but it hardly mattered. He did what he had to; his only regret was the pain and responsibility Arthur felt for the tragedy.

            “Murderer!” Morgause howled and brought her arm back, as if to backhand the warlock and her eyes glowed. A slew of rich words flew out of her mouth and a waved of power followed.

            Merlin’s magic reacted immediately, though, and called a wall of water from the rain to protect the warlock. “I haven’t got time to deal with you,” the Siderian prince said bravely but he really needed to move. He had no idea where Nimueh was and if she showed up then he would be in trouble.

            “Do not overlook me, Emrys.” Morgause warned and commanded the crumbled stones to shift under Merlin’s feet. A few of the blocks flew upward, knocking the warlock in the shoulder and nearly taking off his head. “I let you manhandled me earlier but if you think you can toss around a Priestess of the Old Religion like that then you are a fool.” She came at him again, this time chunks of the tower rained from the crumbling ceiling and up from the floor.

            “Don’t you understand you could destroy us all?” Merlin tried to reason with her while he repelled and dodged missiles of rock.

            “Save it, coward. You don’t fool anyone.” Morgause snarled and took out her sword. With one hand she commanded her magic and in the other she waved her blade. “You don’t care about peace, you just like working for Pendragon’s. Isn’t that right? The Dragon Lord’s son has become a _pet_ dragon for the _Pen_ dragons?” Did she really mean to kill him, crowned prince to Sidera and the heir to Balinor’s dragons?

            “You’ve gone mad.” It surprised him more than it probably should have but he could see it in the way she eyed him each time she tried to skewer him. She resembled a dog that bit its owner knowing it would be slaughtered and did it anyway.

            Merlin used his magic to travel up and avoid her steel. He had mastered the art of levitation some years ago when Balinor tried to ground the Prince in High Tower. The dragons were forbidden from taking him into the sky, but Merlin found a way around that when he learned how to fly on his own. Balinor gave up trying to keep him grounded after that.

            He couldn’t avoid the blocks from the tower, though. Then Morgause howled some foreign incantation and a sickly orange jolt of lighting shot out of her hand, up her sword, and in Merlin’s direction. The light wasn’t natural and he could feel the air grow thick. “You’re using dark magic.” It was becoming harder to repeal her attacks.

            “Yes,” she huffed and another beam shot out of the sword and this one hit its mark.

            Merlin felt the sting immediately; it was like being stung by a bee but all over and into his mind. He shouted, or at least he tried, but maybe no noise came out. Merlin needed to stop playing defense and switch to an attack or he might not survive this wizard’s duel.

            “That smarted, didn’t it? My sword has absorbed the venom of the manticore and I use magic to inject my opponents and occasionally shoot it out at them. I almost poisoned your prince with it, but he needs to kill his father first. It’s a good thing, too, that venom might make you feel a little hazy but it would have stopped him cold.” She looked so smug.

            He did feel hazy. The pain throbbed and in its wake was a steady drum that made his muscles feel stiff and heavy. Soon he was losing the height he had gained by floating upward. He wished Art was here, or even his father but no…no, he could handle this himself, couldn’t he?

            “I will kill him, though. You know I will. Nothing’s stopping me now. Morgana and I will do it together and right before your prince dies I will tell him. I’ll tell him you helped us all along and that you never cared for the dumb blond prat.” She cackled delightedly and sent another bolt toward Merlin.

            She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t kill Arthur and she couldn’t lie like that. He would never hurt Arthur, never. “You talk too much.” Merlin mumbled and lifted his head. He still felt dizzy, but it was a different sensation this time. The warlock called the magic that rested in this place, to the family that died here. He shouted and a ring of magical power pushed out followed by another and another and crashed upon this place, on Morgause, like the tide from the ocean. It knocked her down and brought the remaining stones to the ground, burring the priestess under the ruble.

            Merlin’s eyes stung, as if he had been crying, and he knew that they were still burning gold. His magic was fuming and healing the manticore venom while also standing ready to send another jolt of power. He felt the urge to level this area, pummel the stones into the Earth. Would that kill Morgause? He didn’t know. It was unlikely; he did it anyway.

            When the dust settled he couldn’t see Morgause over the stone blocks that were now evenly packed into the earth. The result of his outburst was a perfectly flat stone floor in the middle of nowhere, like a lone dance floor under the star light. Merlin then caught his breath as if he just realized what he had done in his fury. He didn’t have time to think about it, though. This little spat with Morgause had cost him almost an hour and now he needed to catch up to Arthur before he killed Uther. He half hoped he wasn’t walking across his distant cousin’s grave as he ran toward his horse and he half hoped he was.

_ii_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the series desperately needed more wizards duels... the cloak and dagger stuff is cool, but come on! Let them fight! I hope others agree with me.  
> Any guesses on who Merlin is engaged to? ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


	25. Everything's Different Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin tries to deal with the collateral damage from Morgause’s visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to check out the guide and warnings in chapter one.

Chapter Twenty-Four: EVERYTHING’S DIFFERENT NOW

Merlin tries to deal with the collateral damage from Morgause’s visit

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cannon divergence, episode 2:8 _Sins of the Father_ , attempted patricide

Words: 1961

XiiX

_Camelot_

            To say Merlin arrived just in the nick of time would be an understatement. He burst through the throne room doors with Gaius on his heels in time to see Arthur thrust the tip of his sword just under Uther’s chin.

            “Arthur!” He cried in disbelief. How could he stop this, how could he make this right? “Stop.”

            “No,” the prince roared. His mouth was set to the side in a nasty scowl. He had never felt hate like this.  “He killed my mother using magic! By his own laws he should die!”

            “Son, what is the meaning of this!” Uther sputtered, trying his best to remain in control even on the floor wedged up against his own thrown.

            “Morgan let me speak to my mother, she told me everything!” Arthur spoke through clenched teeth. His brow was damp from sweat and he was just out of breath.

            “Morgan…Arthur you can’t be serious! You would take her word over mine?” The King was scrambling for a way to calm him down. “Gaius, tell him!”

            Merlin looked back at the physician while Arthur only moved his eye. He wasn’t letting the King up, not for a second would he back down.

            “Sire, please,” Gaius began calmly. “Morgan is not who you think.”

            Merlin now stood between Gaius and Arthur. He didn’t know which way to go. What if his friend and confidant said too much…what if it didn’t say enough?

            “What does it matter who she is? I spoke to my mother and she told me the truth.” Arthur wasn’t a patient man under normal circumstances.

            “She’s Morgause La Frey,” Gaius said desperately and the falter in Arthur’s posture was visible. “She was lost to use during the Great Purge, kidnapped by Nimueh.” It pained Gaius to spread lies, but this was the only way. “She raised and brainwashed Morgause and no one knows what became of Lady Vivienne.”

            “But my mother.” Arthur asked, though he wasn’t as hostile.

            “Sorcerers lie!” Uther reminded his son angrily. “Have you learned nothing! They lie, and the witch uses you against me, your own father!”

            “Merlin” Arthur breathed. “You were there, what do you think? Was it a trick, did she seem real?”

            A stone formed in his heart. This was all wrong. “I…” He could feel Gaius staring at him. “Sorcerers lie, Arthur.” He could hear the defeat in his own words. “It was a trick, must have been.”

            Arthur dropped his sword and staggered away, emotionally and physically exhausted. He said nothing while Uther righted himself and regained a sense of control.

            “It’s alright, my son.” Uther said after moments of silence, after Arthur seemingly refused to speak. “Don’t blame yourself.”

            Merlin wondered if the King didn’t have the heart to react in ager because he was guilty or if he was just too stunned.

            Arthur looked around listlessly until he finally mumbled an apology and then, “she’s Morgana’s sister?”

            “Yes, and Morgana cannot know, no one can know. Morgause has magic…it would be improper, a scandal. We must protect her from this.” Uther responded quickly. “That’s why I didn’t want you to go and follow her. You must learn to obey me, son.”

            Arthur was brow-beaten again into mindlessly obeying his father and Merlin felt sick.

            “Sire, if I may,” Gaius spoke up politely. “Maybe this conversation should wait? It has been a long day and your majesties need their rest.”

            Uther cleared his throat and looked as if he couldn’t wait to get out of this room. Arthur didn’t want rest, he wanted answers, but Uther spoke for them both. “Yes, Gaius, I would be amiss if I didn’t listen to the medical advice of my Court Physician.” 

            Merlin took a step toward Arthur and offered to take his sword that was still in his hand, hanging by his side.

            “We will continue this tomorrow, after some much needed rest. I for one could use a drink,” Uther muttered with his hands on his hips.

            Arthur just handed off his sword to Merlin and left, feeling confused.

XiiX

            For days following the incident Arthur was in a daze as if he couldn’t reconcile seeing the specter that claimed to be his mother and the truths he heard from his father and Gaius. He didn’t talk about it to anyone, not even his loyal servant. He did worry about Morgana, though.

            “Merlin, does Morgana seem distant lately?” He asked as the servant served breakfast a little late one morning, nearly three weeks after his duel with Morgause.

            “Hm?” The warlock jumped as he poured a glass of fresh squeezed juice. “Oh, I don’t know? Notice something about her, sire?”

            The Prince brooded with his hand curled under his lip, holding up his chin. “It’s just, she asked about Morgause, Morgan, whatever.” He snapped. “After she left and since then Morgana’s been quiet. She doesn’t even quarrel with father anymore.”

            “Maybe it’s her nightmares?” Merlin offered absent mindedly. He was thinking about who his parents might have arranged for him to marry. There were quite a few suitable nobles his age and in Sidera royalty could marry outside the high class if they were skilled in some other way…usually magic. His parents could have paired him up with a commoner who was a strong sorceress.

            “No, I asked Gaius. She hasn’t had any nightmares in some time. Do you think Morgause got to her?” Arthur asked and put down his fork full of ripe fruit.

            “Wha? No, that’s…that’s just impossible, crazy even. When would she have the opportunity?” If Merlin was chuckling nervously Arthur didn’t seem to notice.

            “We need to find out, before I leave.” Arthur said seriously.

            “Before you leave?” Merlin was sobering up quickly, nervous fit over.

            “Father wants me to begin my Rights of Ascension. He was very clear that I must begin them soon so that I might do the last in seven months. He wouldn’t tell me why, but I’m worried about leaving Morgana at a time like this. These quests will keep me busy, and away.” Arthur explained as if this were a totally normal conversation. Then again, what in their life was normal? This was another morning among many strange mornings. “The first quest is in four days.”

            Merlin’s ears were ringing. This was a part of Uther’s plan to get the Eananah Crystal. “Do you know what this final quest is?”

            “No,” Arthur complained. “Father won’t tell me. He only said that it was the most important and that I must be ready.”

            “And, how many are there?” Merlin asked cautiously.

            Arthur raised an eyebrow at his manservant, as if he found the boys’ questions quaint and endearing. _Silly servant, curious about the lives of royalty._ “There are eleven rites and the twelfth is my ascension to the throne, my coronation.” Despite his natural born arrogance, he paled a bit at the thought. “But that won’t be for many years, still.”            

           “Well,” the servant began slowly. “You better focus on your quests. I’ll talk to Morgana.”

            “You would do that?” Arthur asked brightly. “That’s brilliant. I think I might keep you around, after all.” He winked at his manservant and Merlin hoped he didn’t blush.

XiiX

            Lately Arthur and Gwen had been meeting every eight days for a clandestine walk through the north side of the Kings private woods. They were trying to keep their budding relationship quiet and both Morgana and Merlin were in on it. Though it broke the warlocks’ heart, this did provide him with an opportunity to get Morgana alone.

            “They’re quite cute, don’t you think?” Morgana asked from a distance. They were watching the two stroll along a line of trees.

            “Oh, yes, adorable.” Merlin tried to sound more enthusiastic than he felt. “But as nauseatingly cute as they may be, I wanted to ask you about something important.”

            The Lady glanced at her companion without breaking her stride. She reminded the servant of Kilgharrah when he would stare with one eye without turning his massive head. Morgana seemed all knowing in that moment, wiser than she should be. “You did?”

            The under-cover prince cleared his throat nervously, “Yes.” Merlin nodded toward their forward company. “Something I didn’t want them to hear.”

            “I see.” She wasn’t scared like she was the last time they had a conversation about magic. This time it appeared as if she expected it and she was calm, confident.

            “I just, I want to warn you about Morgan.” He started slowly. “I don’t know what she told you—”

            “Morgause, she’s my sister.” Morgana snapped angrily and a flash of her old fire roared up again. She had been docile since Morgause left, but now Merlin could see she had just been pretending to stay under Uthers radar. “And my mother lives. Uther has been lying to me for years and Arthur knows.”

            “No,” Merlin cried hurriedly and hoped she didn’t know about the battle he had with Morgause. “He only just found out about Morgause, I swear, and he doesn’t know anything about your mother.”

            “So he knows now and still says nothing and you!” She hissed and her eyes flashed gold. She might be a fledging witch, and no match for Merlin, but she was essentially doing the magical equivalent of throwing down her gauntlet. “You’ve known all along! Morgause told me that you two grew up together, and you know my mother, too.”

            The warlock ducked his head shamefully. “It’s true, but, it’s more complicated than that.” He added miserably. “I wouldn’t have kept that from you if I didn’t have to—”

            “And all this time you’ve been pretending to be my friend,” she accused with an upturned lip. Luckily Gwen and Arthur were too far away to hear them, but their body language would be bizarre if either turned around.

            “How do you think Morgause even had the opportunity to see you?!” Merlin finally shouted back in his own defense. “And Morgause isn’t who you think she is, sister or not. She’s killed people, Morgana. She’d kill Sir Leon and Guinevere and Uther and Arthur, too.”

            The lady rubbed the metal bracelet around her wrist. “I’m sure she’s had her reasons for killing people,” she started slowly. “She didn’t have a cushioned and protected life like I did.”

            Merlin sighed and the two calmed down a fraction. “When was the last time you talked to Morgause?” The warlock bit his lip. To this day he wasn’t sure if he killed Morgause on the night of the séance.

            She looked uncertain but finally answered, “three nights ago.” She lightly touched the metal bangle again. “I haven’t had any nightmares, in fact I don’t dream at all anymore unless she speaks to me through my dreams. Is that something all magical people can do?”

            Merlin smiled softly and silently thanked the Triple Goddess that he hadn’t killed his cousin. As nasty as Morgause can be, he didn’t want that blood on his hands. “Most can, but with a little training. That bracelet probably makes it easier.”

            “She told me not to trust you.” Morgana admitted quietly and the pair stopped moving.

            Gwen turned around with a freshly picked flower under her nose and waved happily. Arthur looked at the handmaiden dopily and bravely kissed her on the cheek. It was the perfect image of happiness and it was just out of reach, for both Merlin and Morgana.

            “I don’t want us to be enemies,” Merlin said sadly though he was waving and smiling at Gwen and his master.

            “Neither do I but, everything is different now.” Morgana smiled brightly and she could see a renewed light in Arthur’s eyes. She wasn’t ready to turn her back on him yet.

_ii_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Morgana starts to turn. Thanks for reading!


	26. Borrowed Time and Time Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Gwen enjoy time alone, but so do Merlin and Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to check out chapter one for the guide and warnings.

Chapter Twenty-Four: BARROWED TIME AND TIME AWAY

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Shorter chapter, references to a M/M relationship,

Words: 1841

XiiX

Five Months Later  
_Camelot, in the Citadel Markets_

            Arthur had completed nine of his eleven quests, and Merlin was counting his days. It all feels like borrowed time, at this point. Morgana was growing more and more distant, though no one noticed. Uther was too preoccupied with Arthur’s quests and Arthur was too preoccupied with Gwen.  
            The prince and handmaiden are walking side by side through the citadel. They don’t much pretend to keep up appearances anymore. The only person in all of Camelot who doesn’t know, or acknowledge, their love affair is the King. Merlin walks a pace or two behind them, holding a basket of things Arthur purchased for the handmaiden. Morgana doesn’t accompany them, anymore.  
            “What does his majesty think,” Guinevere asked with a light and playful voice as she held up a ladies handkerchief. It was a pale purple with an ivory G imprinted on it. The quality was mediocre at best, but the merchant who presumably crafted the thing looked very proud of it.

            “Oh, it’s lovely.” Arthur answered a bit reluctantly. The prince thought it was ugly, and Merlin knew it. The warlock hid his snicker, not wanting to hurt Gwen’s feelings, but Arthur could see him smirking over the girls’ head. The knight shot the other man a dirty look. “How much for the handkerchief?” He asked the merchant, who just looked positively thrilled to have the business of the prince.

            “Two coin,” the merchant answered happily. Arthur handed him four; Gwen looked completely doe-eyed and Merlin rolled his eyes.

            “Keep it with you,” the handmaid asked and pushed the small fabric into Arthur’s breast pocket. “That way when the next princess comes around you’ll have something to remember me by,” Gwen explained without an ounce of bitterness in her voice. Maybe she understood the concept of borrowed time, too.

            Arthur was entirely disarmed by her comment, and just stood there dumbly as she tucked the handkerchief away. He took her arm though, looped it with his, and they walked onward toward the castle. Merlin walked behind, shaking his head. 

XiiX

_Somewhere in the outskirts of Camelot_

            The next day Merlin and Arthur were headed out of Camelot for what Merlin thought was another quest. He was more than a little surprised when Arthur led them to an outlining town, one that had a dubious nationality due to its proximity to another kingdoms boarder. “What are we doing here?” He questioned as their horses steadied outside of an inn.

            Arthur shrugged, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “With all these preparations for me to take the throne I thought-"

            “What did I tell you about that,” Merlin interrupted with a grin.

            “Shut it,” the prince snapped. “I was thinking,” he repeated louder this time. “That I should get a feel for the common people, you know, as a part of my ascension.” He explained feebly and swung off his horse. It was then that Merlin realized that the knight was significantly dressed down. He was wearing an older tunic, one that had nearly seen its end on the training field, and simple brown breeches. No cloak, no crown, no flashy chain mail…nothing to indicate that he had wealth or power.

            The warlock was reminded of the time Arthur decided to enter the jousting tournament under another name. However…something about this felt different. “Alright,” he agreed slowly and climbed down from his horse. “But, if you’re going to pretend to be a normal bloke, you can’t have a servant, can you? Get your own bags.” He grinned from ear to ear and hopped into the inn and bar, excited to have a drink and hot meal that they didn’t have to kill immediately before. Arthur, to his surprise, only laughed.

            They had a good time in the small, crowded inn. Travelers from all over Albion piled into the shack, as it was the only inn and bar for about three day’s walk in any direction. According to the Inn Keep, who was also working behind the bar, they almost always had a full house no matter the season. Even in the frigid cold, travelers still found his four walls appealing. The Keeps daughters worked the floors, refilling cups and flirting with the travelers to keep them spending money on mead and ale. A few tables were set up in the back for gambling and drinking games. Much to Merlin’s chagrin, Arthur was quite the socialite with the commoners. He fit right in and was making friends with a few of the fur trappers settled along the bar top.

            Merlin enjoyed himself, too. He had left Archimedes behind on this trip to keep an eye on things in Camelot while he was away. The servant and prince had the evening to themselves, no knights, no ladies of the court or princesses, no assassins, no grumpy Kings snapping at their heels, no titles, no expectations, they could be anyone here… Merlin’s smile slipped off his face below the rim of his mug. He was staring at Arthur across the dining hall; somehow they had gotten separated during the evening. Of course, they were never that far apart. Arthur was always within eye sight, and Merlin did watch him. He didn’t have to hide it now, did he? No one here knew anything…no one cared.

            Then he noticed a change of expression fall over Arthur's face. It wasn’t an unhappy look, but more like the bemused attention he showed when one of the fledgling knights got a good step on him. Merlin followed his gaze to the far corner of the room and at first did not see whatever it was that the other saw, but then quickly darted his eyes back to his master—who was now looking at him and appeared quite flustered.

XiiX

            Arthur had shouldered up to a troupe of fur trappers near the bar and fell into easy conversation. One of the trappers even invited him to go hunting with them sometime, and the prince felt genuinely disappointed that he would not be able to take the fellow up on the offer. He smiled softly and took another sip of his drink, happy that he could blend in as well as he had.

            “So what brought you to this little shack in the wilderness?” One of the older trappers asked. He seemed friendly enough, but there was a knowing glint in his eye that seemed far too clear for the general mood of the bar. “Business or pleasure?”

            Arthur studied the other for a second. He was a large, squarish man with a big black beard, though the hair on his head was starting to grey. There were wrinkles burned into the corners of his eyes, and his skin was darkened from many hours in the sun. He was probably younger than he looked, as the common life was not an easy one. “My business is my own,” he finally said, maybe sounding a little more defensive than he meant to.

            The other man just laughed, though, not seeming offended at all. “Wouldn’t be any of my concern if it were for pleasure, either.” He took a step closer to lower his voice and slung an arm around the other. “Many people come here for many reasons, one of the appeals is the anonymity.” Discretely, with a tilt of his head, he directed Arthur’s attention to two men standing together in the back corner.

            At first Arthur didn’t notice anything special about them. They looked like ordinary fellows. One had brown hair cropped close to his head and a lean build while the other looked a bit like Leon, but maybe not as tall. It was hard to tell from such a distance, but both were dressed better than the average farmer. They were probably artisans of some sort. Arthur was about to ask what the trapper was getting at when he saw the brown haired man place his hand on the small of the blonds back. The blond moved into the touch, smiling in an inviting sort of way, and Arthur could feel the electricity from across the room. 

            “I’ve seen them in here at least twice before,” the trapper added after a second.

            Not taking his eyes off the pair the Prince gawked fairly openly. “Are they…do they mean to…?”

            The trapper only shrugged. “Probably. None of my business.” He took another drink. “I only bring it up because I’m making a point. No one here cares about you, your business, or your pleasure. Notice no one else is staring at them? No one cares,” he repeated and slapped the knight on the back before walking away.

            Arthur stood there for a second longer, though, still watching the couple across the room. This type of behavior was frowned upon in Camelot. His father had adopted all of the New Religions rules when he outlawed sorcery, including moral guidelines for who one ought to lay with. The concept wasn’t completely foreign to Arthur, but before this moment it wasn’t something he had actively considered. For some reason their closeness intrigued him and suddenly Arthur was thinking about his own reason for being here. His eyes found Merlin.

            Immediately, as if he had known all along where the servant was, Arthur's eyes found him effortlessly. The boy looked flustered, though, like he had seen something he shouldn’t have. Merlin looked to the corner of the tavern and then down; his usually pale face was burning scarlet.

_ii_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. That slow burn is finally burning, just a leetle bit.


	27. Strange Bed Fellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur go to bed after a night of drinking.  
> This is probably my favorite chapter so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the first chapter for the series guide and warnings.

Chapter Twenty-Six: STRANGE BED FELLOWS

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Reference to a M/M relationship, bed sharing, drunken conversations, love sick Merlin, reading between the lines

Words: 2282

XiiX

_Somewhere in the outskirts of Camelot_

            It was approaching midnight and Arthur and Merlin had drifted closer to one another. Now they stood by the bar, elbows touching on the table, listening to one of the Inn Keepers daughters tell a story about some drunken travelers who did not earn her favor. The servant was laughing freely, tipping back another drink…was this his fifth or sixth? The prince was a little buzzed, but nowhere near as drunk as he had been after Gwen had showed her hand to both Lance and Arthur.

           “Alright you lot,” the Inn Keep shouted over the loud, but pleasant, crowd. “It’s last call. Time to settle yer tabs and find a bed, I’ll also be renting th' barn f'over flow.”

            Merlin and Arthur quickly snapped their heads up at the Inn Keep, “We’ll take a room!” Neither man wanted to sleep on a stack of hay with half a dozen drunks.

            “My new favorite customers!” The man cheered. He had been happy to accommodate Arthur. Though he wasn’t dressed like a prince, he was still paying like one and had been very liberal with his spending. “I’ve got one room left; you two are welcome to it.” He slid over a key and the pair thanked him with coins and a smile.

            “And one more bottle of wine,” Arthur requested without missing a beat.

            Merlin wanted to roll his eyes. They would both be sick as dogs’ tomorrow morning.

XiiX

            The men struggled and staggered a bit as they climbed the questionable stair case to their rented room. Merlin’s feet never felt so heavy before, and he longed to kick off his boots. He began to imagine stretching out in a bed and sighed. Arthur was already prying open the door and the servant started to sway slightly in the hall. Next to their room the two men they had both spied on before were also retreating for the night. One man led the other into the room by the hand and hurriedly shut the door. Merlin felt his neck grow hot again and wondered if Arthur had noticed them, too.

            However, when Arthur opened the door the two men piled up at the threshold, as if afraid to enter. There was only one bed. It wasn’t a small bed, though nowhere near as expansive as Arthur’s king-sized mattress back in Camelot; it could comfortably accommodate two people. A relative silence pilfered into the room, only the commotion down stairs from patrons paying and bartering for rooms could be heard. Apparently, the Inn Keeper had sold out again, with many travelers left wanting.

            Merlin’s shoulders dropped and he stepped inside the room. It was a bit drafty without a fire going, but dry and still better than a hay stack. “I'll take the floor." He began to walk into the room.

            Arthur put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him to a stop. “Wait,” he said in the dark. Neither of them had thought to ask for a candle or lantern, and the only light available was from the moonlight spilling in through the window. “Are you too good to share a bed with the Prince of Camelot for one night?” He asked, trying to sound offended but the tone wasn’t quite right. Arthur squeezed Merlin’s shoulder once, and dropped his hand. Maybe he had seen the couple next door, all too eager to get their door shut and locked for the night.

            “No, I—” The servant sputtered as he turned around, barely able to make out the other man’s face in the bluish light. “I mean, are you sure?”

            Arthur shrugged and staggered to the bed with the bottle of wine still in hand. Now sitting Arthur kicked off his boots and unlaced his breeches, but kept them on. Merlin refrained from making a joke about his waistline and moved to the other side of the bed like a skittish cat. “It’s just one night, besides, what sort of master do you think I am?” He asked and leaned up against the headboard in a sitting position. The knight popped off the cork on the wine bottle, clearly not ready for sleep yet. “It would be cruel to make a servant sleep on the floor, reflects poorly on me,” he explained and took a drink. “Even if you're a poor excuse for a servant,” he smirked and handed the other man the bottle, sharing the wine.

            Meanwhile Merlin’s head was swimming. He gingerly climbed into the bed after removing his boots, and tried not to think about how dirty his clothes must be. He gladly accepted the drink. He tossed his head back and swallowed more than he probably should have with his eyes squeezed shut. When Merlin opened his eyes again, tipping the bottle back down, he met Arthur’s forward stare. The prince looked at him with a carefree smile on his face and clear eyes. It was then that the servant realized he may have made a tactical error earlier; he was much more drunk than the knight.

            “Room spinning?” Arthur asked with a laugh and accepted the bottle back. He sighed and leaned further into the bedding. “You know, with all the stories I’ve heard from Gaius about you shirking on your duties at the tavern, I don’t think I’ve actually ever _seen_ you drunk.” The prince observed and continued to eye Merlin, as if he might do something ridiculous any minute. “You’ve seen me pissed a few times,” he admitted with a snort.

            Feeling brave the warlock laughed in agreement. “Once you tried to practice throwing daggers after a ball. It took me half the night to convince you to give me the daggers before you stabbed one of the servants. You kept putting an apple on their heads, telling them  _Stay still, I’ve been training since birth_.”

            “Oh god, I remember that.” The knight grumbled into his palms and shoved the bottle back into Merlin's hands. "It's better you're the one who gets pissed tonight, then."

            “You’re hopeless,” the servant rolled his eyes but he accepted the bottle anyways. A comfortable silence fell between them as they traded the bottle back and forth, Merlin still drinking more than the other. The warlock felt himself grow equal parts tired and drunk, thinking any minute now Arthur would relax into the mattress and fall asleep. He was only half right.

            The prince wiggled down on the bedding. Merlin followed his lead but before the servant could turn around, so that he wasn’t facing Arthur, the prince began to speak again.

            “It’s not quite fair,” he announced with a cold sober voice. “You know so much about me and I know nothing at all about you, not really.”

            Merlin had been in the process of laying down when the prince began to talk and now he was holding himself up with his elbow under him and a nervous sweat breaking out all over. He was too drunk for half-truths right now. Merlin felt heady from Arthur's body heat, the wine, and his familiar scent that should be gross but wasn't. “Uh, I’m afraid I’m pretty boring, not much to know.” He laid down facing the other and they were only inches apart. Merlin stuffed his hands under his head, rested on his side, and prayed he didn’t say anything stupid or reckless.

            “Well, tell me something…tell me, tell me about your family. I’ve only ever heard you mention your mother.” Arthur requested, still facing his servant. He seemed genuinely interested.

            Merlin chewed on his lip and tried to ignore the heart ache. Well, your family wants to kill my family, is that a good place to start? “Uh, yea, OK…I lived with my mother, father, and grandmother. I have two sisters, they’re twins.”

            “Oh?” Arthur sounded curious. “I never realized you had sisters. Are they older or younger?”

            “Younger,” he answered quickly. “They’re absolute terrors. Imagine Morgana, but 12 years old and two of them.”

            The prince actually shuddered. “That sounds terrifying. I remember what Morgana was like at 12, and I can’t fathom dealing with two of them.”

             “Yea, they run our parents ragged, especially my father. I don’t think he was ready for them, I was a pretty mild kid in comparison.” Which is true, if you factor out the whole prophecy business. Mim and Map get into trouble daily, whereas Merlin was always so carefully guarded he couldn’t get away with much.

             Arthur leaned over, closer to his servant, and looked him right in face. “I can’t imagine you as a child." The prince was so close Merlin could feel his breath and smell the wine on it. "I just envision your head, big ears and all, on a small body.” 

             Then, quite unexpectedly, Arthur reached forward with gentle fingers and brushed a short lock of hair behind Merlin's left ear. The warlock inhaled sharply, feeling dizzy. If he had been standing he would have surely fell over. _Why is this happening? Arthur is sober. Why is he touching me?_ He had to fight the urge to lean into the delightful sensation of Arthur's warm fingertips on his chilled ear. The warlock couldn't, however, fight the shallow whine that slipped from his lips when Arthur's thick fingers dragged across his scalp into his hair. Arthur didn't appear offended by the noise, though. He continued the movement down, fingers falling across the exposed length of his servants neck, and then gently rested his hand against the other mans collar.

            Merlin didn't dare move, or breath, but the silence quickly crawled up his spine. _Gods_ he's too drunk for this. “Arthur,” he finally whispered. His voice was small and unsure, even after he licked his lip. “What are we doing out here?”

            And that was the question, wasn’t it? This was so unlike the knight, to run off and get drunk with Merlin in an anonymous bar. Shouldn’t he be working toward completing his ascension, or wooing Gwen, or training with the newly recruited knights? Regardless, Merlin's question broke the spell and Arthur shimmed in the bed, now resting on his back. Merlin missed his closeness immediately. 

            “What do you mean? Don’t I deserve a getaway?” He coughed, trying to sound aloof. He was thankful for the darkness, thankful his servant couldn't see him.

            Merlin didn't answer immediately, though. His thoughts were clouded like his head was stuffed with cotton. For every impulse that made him feel brave- _hook your leg around his thigh, take his hand, kiss him now why you can blame it on the wine-_  fear paralyzed him. Eventually the silence began to sound accusatory. “Then, why bring me and not…I don’t know, one of the knights…or Gwen.” 

          Arthur froze. That wasn’t something he couldn't evaluate right now, much less explain. “Must you make everything more difficult,” he grumbled. Banter seemed safer, more familiar. “Those people would actually be missed from the Citadel, you know, because they’re useful.”

           Merlin looked down then, even if the other man probably couldn’t see his face. He shouldn’t have pushed…shouldn’t have hoped. “Right, no, you’re right. Sorry I just—”

           The disenchanted ramblings of his servant made Arthur's heart feel like a twisted rag. “Will you shut up, I wanted you here because…damnit Merlin, you know why, don’t you?” He turned to face the other once more, barely able to make out the depth in his eyes in the murky light. He wanted to see more detail, but he was also thankful he couldn't see disappointment or hurt. 

           Silence spilled into the room again, except this time the void made room for the faint sounds coming from next door, where the two men from before had slipped in. They could hear them laughing intimately and what might be the sound of kissing…

           "You have to know," Arthur breathed. He sounded defeated. He was stuck somewhere between being unable to say it and unable to live with the thought Merlin didn't know.

            The servant swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. Gods, none of this made sense. The tension made Merlin's skin crawl. He fought the urge to run his foot up Arthur's leg. He wanted to ask about the couple next door; what did his master think of that. He wanted to ask about a different reality, one where they could be equals, and true friends, one where they didn’t have to escape to a shack in the outskirts of the kingdom, or maybe a reality where they did do exactly that, but for different reasons. Merlin shook his head, though. He couldn’t start those thoughts now, not lying in bed next to the man. Instead he followed up with, “I…I think.”He tried to choose his words carefully but everything was muddled. “No," he added quickly. "I don't think I know anything,” he laughed dangerously close to sobs. "But I'm glad to be here. I'm always glad to be with you, Arthur." Liquid courage, indeed. 

            The prince didn’t say anything but the room settled at that moment, and the tension around Arthur dissipated for now. “Thanks, Merlin.” For understanding, for not making me say it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My attempts at building tension. Did it work? Do you feel the tension in the air?!
> 
> ALSO: I'm completing a five month internship and had to relocate to an area with NO WIFI. I know, hard to believe, even harder to live with, trust me. So, naturally, up dating will be difficult and certainly not weekly... probably monthly. I apologize. I never thought in a million years I would have to do without wifi!!!


	28. Friends Old and New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur makes a new friend and is reunited with an old one, meanwhile Merlin still doesn't know where he fits in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder to check out the series guide in chapter one as needed.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: THE WONDERING SWORDSMAN AND TERRIBLE PRINCE

Rating: General Audience

Warnings: Cannon Divergence episode 3:4 _Gwaine_

Words: 2087

XiiX

_Somewhere in the outskirts of Camelot_

            The next morning Merlin kept looking for the right moment to talk to Arthur about the night before, though he didn’t know where to start and how to begin. In the end, it didn’t matter, because Gwaine ruined his chances at an honest conversation.

            It all happened too fast; three men started to hackle one of the Inn Keepers daughters over the bill. They refused to pay and then tried to insist that they could repay the girl in _other_ ways. They crowded around her, ignoring the angry cries from her father, and took out their swords. Arthur moved into the fray at the same time Merlin started identifying all the loose objects that could fall from the rafters, and Arthur threw one of the men into a nearby table. It toppled over, spilling a drink of the hands of a man that looked like he hadn’t stopped drinking all night. At first Merlin thought they had made another enemy, but the man stood up and went to Arthur's back, silently joining him in the fight against the trouble-makers.

            Two more men, apparently companions to the first three, sprang up then, and the real fight began. Arthur and his new comrade nodded to one another, and suddenly they were brothers in arms. Merlin didn’t have to do much more than watch and maybe trip one or two people.

            In the end, Arthur was so impressed with the man’s skill and style he invited him to travel back to Camelot with them. Merlin was surprised, it wasn’t like Arthur to trust strangers so readily, but secretly he was pleased. His magic like this man, almost as much as it liked Arthur.

            But it wasn’t that simple. As they soon discovered, Gwaine, what an unusual name, did not believe in following nobles. In fact, he seemed to enjoy Arthur’s company less after he realized who he was. He had some chip on his shoulder, clearly, and was not impressed by the knight’s code or the idea of servitude. Arthur was nothing but inspiring, though. Of course he was, even if it wasn’t his destiny Merlin would follow him to the end of the earth and somehow, he made Gwaine give him a chance.

            “Hmm,” Gwaine scratched under his chin. “I suppose I could give you one shot to change my mind,” he said it like a warning. “But, if you end up like all the rest I’m gone, understand?”

            “Fair enough, but I don’t disappoint.” The prince agreed and put out his hand for a shake.

            Gwaine eyed his hand first, but then gripped it happily. “Alright, and you owe me a drink!” He thumped Arthur on the back and winked. “Lead the way, princess.” Merlin liked Gwaine, very much.

XiiX

_Camelot_

            Much to everyone’ surprise, Gwaine stuck around Camelot for several weeks. During his stay it was discovered that he was the son of a knight and therefor eligible to serve Camelot in a red cloak. Once Arthur discovered this, he sunk his teeth into the vagabond and refused to let go. He was mildly obsessed; it was almost like he was courting the other man. Merlin was equal parts disappointed and delighted to see someone deny Arthur each time the man refused.

            Of course, Arthur didn’t get it. He loved being who he was, and all the perks that came with royalty. He couldn’t wrap his head around Gwaine’s distaste for nobility and the lifestyle. “I don’t get it, why would he abandon his estate to being a common drifter?” Arthur hissed one afternoon as he paced outside the training fields. He watched Gwaine wipe the floor of all his knights, again. Only Leon and Arthur himself could match him and only occasionally best the swords man.

            Merlin just shrugged with an arm full of armor. “Some people are not motivated by the traditional, I suppose.” He thought of his own situation, he left a life of royalty and charm to be here waiting on the Prince of Camelot day and night.

            Arthur regarded his servant with a calculated interest, like he was deciding if Merlin was about to say something daft or insightful. It was fifty-fifty. “Do you have any suggestions?” He only sounded mildly scathing.

            The warlock grinned like he was waiting for Arthur to ask and it made the prince cringe.  “Gwaine left nobility to be free and do his own thing” Merlin explained. “…if he just wanted to be a knight, he would have stayed in his father’s house and become a knight in that kingdom. What can Camelot…what can you offer him that he wasn’t getting before?”

            Arthur didn’t respond, but he walked away with his hands on his hips, which meant he was thinking. Later that day Arthur asked Gwaine to help him train the newer nights and squires with the sword. Gwaine was kind, charming, good with a blade, and the younger boys really looked up to him (which was somewhat frightening). To Arthur's surprise and glee, Gwaine agreed. He seemed happy to assist in this way. It was Arthur's hope that Gwaine would grow fond of this place, and want to serve with the brothers he helped train.

XiiX

            Things began to change the following week when it was announced than King Horvath would be visiting with his daughter Emily and son Kay. At first Merlin thought that this would be like all other visits from royalty, lots of pomp and circumstance, lots of preparations, and maybe an assassination attempt. Who knew? However, it became clear that this visit would be different for Arthur because he actually _cared_ about the visiting party.

            Typically Arthur disliked entertaining nobility as much as Merlin. He had no love for licking boots and dancing at banquets and the like…but this time, when he heard that Prince Kay was visiting, he started to preen and panic. Merlin stood in the center of Arthur's bedroom and stared with an open mouth as Arthur laid out his clothes, deciding on which outfit to wear for the arrival of the royal party. He was acting like he was preparing for a first date.

            “What aren’t you telling me?” Merlin asked slowly. “Do you have a crush on Princess Emily…” the knight scoffed. “Or Prince Kay?” He asked slyly. They never did talk about the night at the tavern, and Merlin couldn't muster the courage to broach the subject. Every time he thought about doing it he imagined Arthur telling him he was drunk, making a fool of himself, and isn't remembering things right. 

            “No, Mer _lin._ ” He snapped and threw an offending item of clothing at his servant. “I haven’t seen Kay in several years…since I was a boy.” He paused, trying to work this in a way that wouldn’t make him sound pathetic. “It’s important that Camelot demonstrates their strength,” he finally settled on.

             Merlin, through observing Arthur and listening to castle gossip, was able to piece together most of the picture. Kay was four years older than Arthur. As adults, the difference was not so significant, but as boys Arthur had looked up to Kay, who was a bit of a bully. Merlin wondered if maybe Arthur had picked up the bad behaviors from the foreign prince…but now it appeared that Arthur was excited to show Kay how much he had grown up, to demonstrate that they were equals now. Merlin thought it was kind of cute, as he had never seen Arthur act like his before. 

XiiX

               Less than a day into King Horvath’s arrival Merlin decided that none of this was cute. Prince Kay was an absolute ass, and not the way that Arthur had been an ass…which was still somewhat endearing. No, this prat was an awful person. Worst still, his sister was no better. She was two years younger than Arthur, and twice as spoiled as Morgana. Emily and Kay were surely cut from the same cloth and they looked so much alike they could have been twins.

               Kay was tall, about Merlin’s height, and built like a shit brick house. He had short auburn red hair and a square jaw. He had an air of cockiness to him and, with the reddish hair, he reminded Merlin of a rooster. Emily was a petite maid with a long braid of auburn red hair and pale skin that the nobles wore as a status symbol. Whereas Kay could be a brute, Emily was wicked. She enjoyed watching her brother best her suitors in the training ring and would lead young men on for fun.

                Merlin was not the only one who did not like them on sight. Morgana hated Kay and Emily both. She recalled how Arthur had followed Kay around like a puppy when they were children and always resented the older boy for it. As children Morgana’s feelings were hurt—Arthur didn’t want anything to do with her when Kay was around—as an adult Morgana felt contempt for the visiting family. Emily liked to remind Morgana that she wasn’t a real princess, and that she should be happy that King Uther paid her such charity. Even Gwen had to fight to hold her tongue.

                “They’re just awful, aren’t they?” Gwen whispered to Merlin on the second night of King Horvath’s visit. The first day the royal party insisted on resting, and they celebrated their visit the following evening with a feast. Everyone was in attendance.

                “Absolutely. It’s like looking into an evil mirror and seeing opposites and Moraga and Arthur.” Merlin grumbled as he refilled a pitcher of wine in the kitchen.

                “You know who Kay reminds me of?” Gwen asked with a brightness in her eye that Merlin had not seen in a few weeks. Merlin only looked at her dumbly and she continued, “he reminds me of Arthur before you arrived. I hope whatever magic you worked on him last time works again now because he’s been a bully since Kay showed up.” There was an icy tone to her voice. 

                The warlock raised an eyebrow. “Are things alright between you and Arthur?”

                Gwen appeared flustered at once and soothed her face immediately, as if she realized she had said too much. “He asked for me to keep his distance while King Horvath and the royal family is visiting.” She said is logically, like the whole thing made perfect sense to her. “Of course the Prince needs to entertain our guests and cannot be…otherwise distracted by his duties.” The girl must have a red-blooded heart encased in protective stone because her voice did not waiver once, even though Merlin knew what she was feeling.

               “Gwen,” he said sadly though he was unable to express everything he wanted to say. In the background they could hear Princess Emily laughing at something Arthur said. Her voice was lovely, even though both servants surely heard nails on a chalk board.

                “It’s alright, he’s the Prince, Merlin. What we had…it was never meant to last, not really.” She smiled brightly but the glow didn’t quite reach her eyes. With that she turned around and returned to her mistress.

                At the table sat Arthur and Kay chatting, clearly trying to one up the other with stories of their greatness. To the right sat Morgana and Emily who were icily talking here and there…Gwen looked greatly uncomfortable behind them. The two kings sat at a smaller table situated above the table for their children, and they, too, appeared happy. Horvath was kind, but had adopted laws against magic well before Uther. His laws had been less intense than Camelot’s before the Purge, but he quickly supported Uther’s campaign. When Uther laid siege to neighboring territories, Horvath supplied men, swords, and rations.

               Merlin looked up at Gwen once more. He should join her, standing like a statue behind Arthur, but even that wasn’t his place anymore, was it? Maybe Gwen got her heart stomped on, but at least she could stay. Arthur didn’t want him there. Typically, Arthur and Merlin would share snide comments during these events and Arthur would pretend he didn’t notice his servant filching wine. Now, Arthur pretended like he didn’t know his manservant of over two years. He certainly didn’t see a friend.

               That night Merlin followed Arthur and Prince Kay back to the Prince’s royal chambers. Camelot’s Prince did not so much as look at Merlin the whole night, not even as they neared the end of the hall. The servant felt awkward, worse than when he accompanied Arthur and Gwen. When Arthur shut the door on Merlin’s nose without so much as a goodnight, Merlin felt the air knock out of him.

_ii_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, like we needed more antagonists....  
> Kay is my take on the bully from The Sword in the Stone who is also named Kay.  
> Let me know what you think!!


	29. Wedding Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Kay implies he is to marry Morgana while Arthur drives away everyone that cares about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder to check out chapter one as needed for a series guide and warnings.

Chapter Twenty-Five: WEDDING BELLS

Prince Kay implies he is to marry Morgana to help unit their houses while Arthur turns on all those around him.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mentions of arranged marriages, unnecessary cruelty, strained relationships

Words: 1753

XiiX

_Camelot_

             Two more days continued like this. Merlin followed behind Arthur while being blatantly ignored, forced to watch as Kay sunk his prattish claws in deeper. A small part of Merlin wanted to pitch a fit, sling some of his characteristic sass Arthurs way, and totally embarrass him in front of the visiting Prince. Every time he got the inkling to do just that, though, Arthur would glance at him for just a second like he _knew_ what was going through Merlin’s head and the servant stopped himself.

              Others started to notice, namely Gwen, Morgana, and Gwaine. The latter two had no issues speaking up, though. While Merlin and Gwen may not have had the clout necessary to formally put Arthur in his place, the Kings Ward and Gwaine (a noble by birth and thus status) had no reservations about speaking up. It all came to a head on the morning of the third day. Arthur and Kay were running around the Citadel terrorizing anyone that walked by, but quickly became bored. Merlin was following behind them, offering apologetic glances at anyone who had to endure the inconsiderate pair of princes. Merlin even helped scoop up some apples that Kay had knocked over from a merchants table. Surely, this bushel of fruit was all the man had to sell and barter with and Arthur and Kay just tossed it all to the ground carelessly.

              “Why do you think our fathers arranged this visit?” Kay asked while taking aim at a target board with a throwing dagger.

              Arthur pursed his lip and shrugged. “Hadn’t asked. I know father wants one last push to eradicate magic before my inevitable coronation…I assumed he was hoping your father would support him in battle.”  Arthur was leaning against a wall, one leg bent with his foot resting on the stone behind him. His arms were crossed. “Why, do you know something?” He winced when Kay let his dagger fly and it landed just left of the bullseye.

             The red-haired prince scowled and tossed the remaining dagger in his palm up and down, like he was getting a feel for the weight. Behind them Merlin pretended not to listen. “Father didn’t _say_ anything,” Kay admitted and the servant rolled his eyes. The way he said ‘father’ reminded him of the petulant and whiny way Arthur also said it. “But uhm, heard any wedding bells lately?” He smirked and threw the second dagger; this one hit its mark.

             Arthur looked like he swallowed a bug. “You mean me and Emily?”

             “Or me and Morgana.” If Arthur looked like he swallowed a bug, Kay looked like the cat who ate the canary. He turned to face the other prince and raked a hand through his locks. “I don’t have the details, but our fathers have wanted to join our houses for some time. None of us have been promised to other bachelors…and it’s so hard to know who to trust. There are whispers of magic sympathizers, even in noble families.” He paused, as if maybe he had said too much. “Anyways, I can’t deny that the prospect of having Morgana…” he trailed off and raised his eye brows. “She’s grown quite lovely.” If there was an attempt on Kay’s part to hide his lecherousness, it was not obvious. 

            Arthur just grunted, like he hadn’t thought about it much. “And you would be fine if Emily was promised to me?”

            “Well, I think it will be one or the other. Politically, it wouldn’t provide additional advantages if you married Emily _and_ I married Morgana. It would be a waste of another alliance.” Kay responded quickly, like Arthur should have picked that much up on his own. Like this was all so logical. “But sure, if that’s the way it goes, Emily could do much worse.”

            Behind them, little more than furniture, Merlin contemplated his own impending marriage. Maybe his parents promised him to one of these nations that secretly “sympathized” with magic. He would have to ask Archimedes later if the dragon was aware of any such kingdoms.

           “This is getting a bit dull.” Kay said in reference to the target practice. “Didn’t you say Camelot recently acquired some new squires and knights?” The visiting prince asked. “In fact, I think you might have enlisted some of the men my father and I had been courting.” He had a vicious light in his eye.

           “Well,” Arthur shrugged and continued sounding positively pompous, “Camelot’s Knights are the finest.”

           “We’ll see about that. Let’s go test ‘em out, should be fun.” Kay began to walk toward the training grounds and Arthur gleefully followed, not seeing anything at all wrong with what Kay was implying.

           Merlin felt a twist in his stomach. Gwaine was out training with the greenest of Camelot’s forces, as Arthur had requested. He wanted to point this out to Arthur because Merlin _knew_ that this was a powder keg waiting to go off, but as soon as he opened his mouth Arthur glared at him and they were moving.

          Arthur, Kay, and Merlin stood back for a few minutes while they watched Gwaine instructing two squires in the center of the ring. All squires aspired to be knights to some degree, and while it was generally accepted that almost any noble boy could be knighted, it was still tradition to “do one’s time” as a squire, first. In the ring with him stood Bartholomew and Dawnagin, the fifth and seven sons of nobles from different lands. They were not being considered for succession of their father’s lands, and thus were free to pursue knighthood in Camelot. They were 14 and 16 and, though not related, acted very much like brothers already. They were also good students.

         “Your hand work is excellent but don’t be quite so rigid,” Merlin heard Gwaine correct and took Bartholomew by the shoulders. “Fighting is an active sport, right? Right,” he answered his own question. “So, you need to be prepared to move…your opponent isn’t going to just fall on your sword, after all.”

         The squire looked bewildered. Arthur and the other knights were more of the, let me wipe the floor with you and you’ll eventually develop some skill once you’re tired of being knocked on your butt sort of teachers. Gwaine, surprisingly, had loads of patients for these young men. “Yes, sir.” The squire rolled his shoulder and tried to lean into his stance, so that he could move more quickly.

         Gwaine was about to encourage Bartholomew and exit the training arena when Kay called from across the field, “you’re not knight.” He said it with a smile, more like he was amused than offended. All heads turned and only the rustling of training swords clapping against pads of thick leather could be heard. The squires and new knights either looked down to their feet or back at Gwaine, wondering how this would go. The mood was immediately gloomy, precarious, like the boys didn’t know if they were allowed to be here.

         But Gwaine did not look the least bit concerned. He had his sword, live steel, in his hand. He had been using it to demonstrate the appropriate way to swing a full bodied sword just minutes ago. Instead of sheathing it, which would have been the customary thing to do when addressing royalty, Gwaine brazenly extended his arm and bowed. The sword extended his wing span by over three feet and the squires noticed that his grip did not waiver as he bent at the waist to bow at the pair of Princes. “You are correct sire,” he said it and somehow managed to sound icy but not overly antagonistic. “I’m no knight, right Arthur?” He tilted his head toward Camelot’s prince, looking positively annoyed.

         “Not yet, still hoping you’ll take us up on the offer.” Arthur huffed with his arms crossed, but Merlin could hear the unease in his voice.

         “Is he that good?” Kay asked with a disbelieving smirk.

         “You’re welcome to find out,” Gwaine snapped before Arthur or anyone else could speak. The smirk slipped off Kay’s face. The visiting prince was adept with a sword, and he had ridden into battle and killed his fair share of men. He was not unskilled or a coward…but maybe there was something in Gwaine’s fiery eyes that made him rethink the proposition.

         “I think I will,” he answered quickly but then turned to the squire. “Bartholomew, show me what you’ve learned from your teacher. I expect to see some improvements since you tried out for knightship in my courts.” He began to walk confidently into the training fields, totally ignoring the boiling wrath carved into Gwaine’s face.

         Gwaine would have thrown down his gauntlet if he had been wearing one. Instead he just clenched his teeth and glared at Kay. “What are you doing?” He asked, treading close to being outright disrespectful to the visiting noble. 

        “I think you ought to just walk away,” Kay responded lowly without looking directly at the other man.

        Gwaine opened his mouth, grip tightening on his sword, but Arthur barked at him before anything could happen—“that’s enough!” Camelot’s prince scowled, appearing more upset that Gwaine was making a scene than concerned with what Kay intended to do.

        “You don’t have to put up with this,” the wondering swordsman said to his student. Bartholomew only shook his head and asked him to leave. His presence would only make things worse. Gwaine scowled deeply and threw his sword into the dirt, not at all hiding his discontent. He walked past Kay, who was snickering openly at getting his way, and marched right up to Arthur. “Thanks for proving me right.”

         Merlin looked from Arthur to Gwaine and watched as realization sunk into the blond knight’s face. “I’m not going to stand around and watch this. See you around, Arthur. Merlin.” He addressed the servant with much more kindness. Behind them they Kay could be heard howling at the squire as he made fun of the boy and bested him in size, strength, speed, and skill.

         Gwaine walked off and Merlin felt powerless watching him go. He wanted to follow, but he didn’t want to leave Arthur, either. His magic was hissing, almost insisting that Gwaine should stay. His magic liked Gwaine almost as much as it liked Arthur. Instead he stood rooted to the spot with disappointment filling his heart as he watched Kay pummel the green knights and squires and Arthur grinned, watching the show.

        Gwaine left Camelot that night.

 

_ii_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're trucking forward! Only a few more chapters in this story.


	30. Last Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin confronts Arthur and things do not go well, meanwhile Uther confides in Arthur for his future plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, this is the last chapter for this story in the series. Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter Thirty: LAST WORDS

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Some language, hurt feelings, regrets, plot movement, cliff hangers

Words: 2008

XiiX

 _Camelot_         

           The next morning Merlin came to his prince planning to have a reasonable conversation. He was disappointed in Arthur. They needed to talk. Maybe he could knock some sense into him. Gwen and Gaius were always saying that Arthur would listen to him, that he had a special way with the brute.

           What ended up happening was a disaster. The room felt tense as soon as he walked in, shutting the door behind him while balancing the breakfast tray with one arm. Arthur was already awake, though undressed. He scowled at Merlin immediately like he was prepared to have it out.

           “Good morning, Sire.” The servant said quietly, momentarily stopping in his tracks as Arthur stared him down. “Would you like to get dressed before breakfast, or after?”

           Instead of answering Arthur scoffed and looked away. “You’re being painfully pleasant this morning. Don’t you want to yell at me, too?”

 _Too?_ Merlin wondered who might have already fussed at the prince. The list was short; there only so many people willing to _yell_ at him. “Is there something you want to talk about?” He asked icily and maybe, maybe, set the serving tray down a little harshly.

            Arthur both bristled and appeared to approve, like he was thankful Merlin took the bait. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me. If I must endure another minute of you and your quiet judgment I think I’ll kill us both.” The knight hissed and jumped out of bed, only wearing his smalls as he rounded on his servant. “I swear, you're worse than Gwen. I should put you in a dress because you act like my wife!”

            _Ah_ , it was Gwen, then. Arthur couldn’t yell at her like this, so he would take it out on Merlin.

            That was fine, the servant thought heatedly. He could take it. Merlin balled his fists and took a step closer, not at all intimidated. If Arthur was surprised Merlin didn’t tuck his tail between his legs, he didn’t show it. Now Merlin straighten his spine and looked _down_ at the knight. “Gawain left and it’s your fault.” He finally accused, voice like ice. “And you’ve turned into a complete dickhead since Kay arrived. He’s awful, Arthur, can’t you see that?”

            Maybe Arthur was expecting Merlin to throw Gawain in his face, but he was surprised Merlin took a jab at the other prince. “Watch it, Merlin.”

            “No,” Merlin cried back. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed. You act like a totally different person when he’s around. You were kind…and since he’s arrived you haven’t said a whole sentence to me.” The servant cringed as soon as the words flew out of his mouth. He wished he could reel them back in, swallow the syllables down before Arthur could use them against him—but it was too late.

             Arthur, ever the warrior, saw a weakness and dove for it. “Is that what this is really all about? You’re _jealous_ of Kay?” He had the nerve to snicker.

             The warlock resisted the urge to stomp his foot. “Are you listening to a word I’m saying? You’re driving everyone away to, to what? Impress Kay? He doesn’t even care about you!”

             The prince barked out a loud, cruel laugh. “You really are jealous. This happens sometimes, when servants forget their place.”

             Merlin’s gut was twisting. He didn’t even confess his feelings, but Arthur was making fun of him anyway. He felt a pressure behind his eyes and fear knotting in his throat but he also felt an intense swell of anger. It smoldered within him and made Merlin snarl back, “is that what you said to Gwen when she called you out about it?”

             The smirk on Arthurs face dissolved into a sneer. “Merlin.” His tone had never been so ugly.

             “No,” he chirped angrily. “I’m sure you showed her at least of shred of decency. You probably even tried to convince her she was still special before you went back to talking about taking Emily to bed as a political favor.” He leaned forward, throwing his back into the argument. “Did she hear about the meeting you’re scheduled to have today? I bet she did. What did you tell her?”

             “Merlin!” He snarled again, jacking his servant up by the collar and walking him into the wall. They were pressed chest to chest with Arthur's white knuckles curled under the servants chin. "Watch. Your. Tongue." His teeth were clenched; the words sounded punched-out. 

             But maybe Merlin has some warrior in him, too, because he can smell the blood in the water like a shark. Some small part of his brain knows Arthur doesn't want to hit him, wants to end this silly argument. Instead of ending this here and walking away, Merlin twists the knife. “Oh, you lied to her, didn’t you? I never took you as a liar. A bit of a coward when it came to women, but never a liar.”   _Why is he saying this?_

            “That’s enough!” Arthur growled and shoved Merlin by his collar, forcing him toward the doors. “Out, get out you mouthy, defiant, servant! Go, go find Gawain and follow him for all I care.” He manhandled the servant roughly, leaving bruises on his arms and back until he could slam the door shut.

            “Fine!” Merlin shouted at the door once it was closed.

XiiX

            A full stomach and an hour later did nothing to improve Arthur's mood. _‘Who the hell does Merlin think he is?’_ He paced outside the council chamber. The servant had been right, this meeting was scheduled between Uther, Horvath, Arthur, and Kay and the topic was _alliances._ Arthur could read between the lines as well as Merlin; the Kings planned to work out how to unify their lands through marriage.

           The knight scrubbed his face with both hands and sighed. He did not want to marry Emily, and Kay was dead set on marrying Morgana…but could he really do that to her? Kay was a brute. He had seen the way he looked at Morgana, how he talked about _having_ her. He was no gentleman; he was cruel and totally unfit to have Morgana’s hand. Emily had the personality of a practice dummy and was just as vicious as her brother. She would never warm up to him, and he couldn’t imagine sharing his heart with her. Either way one of them would be promised to someone they did not love, who would not treat them with respect. He cursed under his breath. He cursed his father for putting him in this position, and he cursed Merlin for being right about it.

          “You look like shit,” Kay said loudly as he approached with his father to his right.

          “Son,” the king admonished with a disapproving scowl. “I hope nothing is troubling you,” he offered to Arthur. He was much more pleasant than his heir. “This should be a happy day.”

          The blond knight fought back the urge to grunt; his father would kill him for being so rude. Instead he smiled dully as Horvath and Kay let themselves into the council room, the later gave him a sly wink that made Arthur sick. Clearly, Kay thought he had this in the bag. The fact that neither Morgana or Emily were present did not escape the prince; they would not be here to refuse or accept any claims.

XiiX

            Uther didn’t waste time. He walked in with Gregory in tow, sat down at the head of the table, and immediately got to the point. “I assume you boys have sorted out that we have been deciding how to unite our houses.”

            Horvath nodded his head amicably. Kay sat up straighter in his chair, prepared to accept his alliance with Camelot.

            “We have decided that Arthur will take Emily as his bride this spring.” Uther said with finality, Horvath continued to nod happily.

            “What?” Both Arthur and Kay blanched, neither expecting this turn of events.

            Horvath smiled, amused, but Uther scowled at the disrespect. “I know you had your heart set on Morgana, son,” the foreign king said sympathetically. “But Uther and I have decided she would be better suited to marry another house; it has already been decided.”

            “Yes,” Uther intoned before Kay could complain again. “It has been decided.”

            “But father, to who? Does she even know?” Arthur’s head was running a mile a minute, but he wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge that he was marrying Emily. God. He had to marry Emily. He couldn’t think straight. Guinevere.  

            “Arthur, calm down.” Uther chided. “I’m trying to bring you into the fold, this is very important.” He looked bothered, like explaining himself was a chore.

            Both Arthur and Kay straightened up, but the foreign prince still scowled. “Why do I feel like we’re not talking about marriages anymore?” Kay asked, his head cocking to the side. His father gave him an approving smile. He had caught on before Arthur.

            “It has already been decided,” Uther repeated slowly. “Morgana has been promised to Ambrosius Myrddin, as a part of a…. _peace treaty._ ” Shear violence bloomed across the king’s face.

            A cold sensation raced down Arthur’s spine. He recognized that name, though it was not uttered often. Once, or twice, during private council meetings, usually from Talmond—the Court Scholar. “Ambrosius, the Dragonlord’s son?!” Arthur reared up in his seat, the chair sliding noisily behind his tensed legs. “You can’t be serious, father!”

            “ _Sit down_ ,” Uther growled. “We’ve been planning this for several years. We’re going to kill all of them from the inside; it will be your greatest inheritance.”

XiiX

            _“Emrys, where are you?”_ Archimedes asked, gently lapping at Merlin’s consciousness.

            The wizard rubbed his sleeve covered arm over his eyes and under his nose, even if Art couldn’t see the tears. Not being able to stand to face Gaius or Gwen right now, they would see through any feeble façade he attempted, he had avoided everyone since breakfast. Archimedes, through their connection, must already know that Merlin was hurt. _“_ _I’m on the hill behind the training field.”_

              He had wondered around the Citadel for most of the day and when the sun started to dip lower into the horizon Merlin climbed to the other side of the hill. No one could see him lying there on his back, looking up to sky, unless they walked right up to him. It was unlikely that anyone was looking for him, though. Arthur’s meeting with the King was scheduled to run through dinner and it was a closed-door discussion. No servants or knights allowed. He didn’t have to be accounted for until the prince retired for bed. Merlin snorted. He couldn’t imagine facing Arthur now, not after all the horrible things he said.

 _“Alright.”_ Archimedes responded softly. They had not been talking as much since Mordred's death. The dragon was extraordinarily stubborn and could hold a grudge like no other. Now, though, he was being more sensitive than usual, maybe he could sense the tears, somehow.  _"I'm coming to you."_

            The warlock bristled. The sun was setting, but it was still up. It was a great risk for Archimedes to be flying around now, no matter how small he made himself. _“Art, I’m fine, really.”_ Even in his own mind Merlin sounded like a kicked puppy. _“You could be seen.”_

The warlock could feel the trepidation seep through their link as Art answered, _“None of that matters now.”_ Before Merlin could work out what exactly his winged brother meant by that, the dragon was breaking through the clouds, no larger than a sparrow. “Emrys,” Archimedes said out loud and expanded to a size about that of a large horse. “We have to leave.”

            “What?” Merlin stood abruptly, no longer concerned that Art was putting them at risk like this.

            “Your father’s orders, you are to return to Sidera immediately.” He at least looked apologetic, but then shook his massive head and a low growl rumbled out of his throat, like he was uncomfortable. “Please, I’ve heard the command from Balinor. Do not make me force you.” 

            The warlock clenched his fists, feeling utterly powerless. He could see the defeated look in Archimedes face; he didn’t want to fight. “Do I have time to, to say goodbye?”

            “No,” the dragon answered sadly, with finality. “Earlier I, I swallowed your things, things we can’t leave behind. I told Gaius.” It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. “Please, Emrys, get on my back. Balinor calls me still.”

            Merlin nodded, no longer trying to wipe away the tears rolling down his burning face. As they flew high, up toward the clouds and over the castle, Merlin regretted every angry thing he said to Arthur and a few things he never got the chance to say.

 

_ii_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFF HANGER I KNOW.  
> I already have the next story in the series over half way written. This will be the last in the series under the title "Secrets Out". The last installment will also be rated Explicit for various reasons.  
> Like I mentioned earlier, I'm finishing an internship and where I'm stationed I really don't have access to a internet connection. Look for the latest installment in mid to late May. :)


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